


Smoke and Mirrors

by thelogicalloganipus (awkwardkermitfrog)



Series: The Curse of the Dragon Witch Universe [2]
Category: Sanders Sides
Genre: Gen, curse of the dragon witch, curse of the dragon witch sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-02-12 01:17:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 37,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12948186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardkermitfrog/pseuds/thelogicalloganipus
Summary: The sides thought the dragon witch was gone. They were wrong.





	1. A Smoke and Mirrors Game

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Mention of self harm (from the previous work), mention of blood (nothing big, don't worry, but still it's there)

“Roman, come on, get up!”

Roman groaned and threw his pillow over his head, shutting his eyes tightly. He waited, listening, trying to figure out if Patton would continue to pester him. Sure enough, there was another knock at the door. 

“Come on, Princey! Wakey wakey eggs and… I made toast!” 

Roman closed let a sigh out through his nose, a low sound. He threw the blanket off his body and walked over to the door, fingers at the edge of the handle, uncertain what to do.

Three more knocks - that was it.

Roman threw the door open, fast, and looked at Patton with an exhausted face.

“I made us breakfast!” Patton said cheerfully, holding a plate with a cheese omelette and two slices of toast. Roman blinked, slowly, hoping Patton would pick up on his exhaustion. Instead, Patton held the plate up to Roman’s nose, grinning. 

“Yeah. Okay. Thank you.” Roman took the plate and held it at waist level, watching Patton smile at him. “Is there anything else?”

“It’s your day! Remember?” Patton clapped his hands, smiling. “I’m so excited! After the giant game of monopoly last week I can’t wait to see what you have planned!” 

“Right.” Roman had forgotten; Tuesday was spent in his part of the mind palace. “I’m sorry, Thomas has been putting me through the ringer. I apologize.”

“It’s okay. I made coffee too!” Patton turned and began to walk down the hallway, towards the kitchen. “You take it with two sugars and two creamers, right?”

“Right.” Roman smiled in spite of himself and began to follow Patton down the hall. That side really was a father figure, remembering little things that even he sometimes forgot about himself. Walking into the kitchen, he was met with the smell of breakfast, the start of another day. He looked at Logan, who was running his thumb along the rip of a coffee cup, and frowned. “Where’s Virgil?”

“He’s… occupied.” Logan said quietly. He picked up his coffee and inhaled deeply, choosing not to elaborate further.

“Is he coming to the fields?” Roman asked, setting his breakfast plate down on the table with a little clink. He looked from Patton to Logan, frowning, adjusting his pajama pants. Logan looked down, avoiding the topic. 

“He’s not able to come today, kiddo.” Patton set a coffee mug in front of Roman, mouth twisting a little. “It’s not really in his control.”

“Oh.” Roman nodded in realization. “Right.”

“What are your plans for us today, Roman?” Logan set his mug down and folded his hands under his chin, looking expectant. 

“Well… I hadn’t thought much about it. Perhaps a game of hide and seek. In a castle.” Roman bite into his toast and chewed with a concerned expression. “Patton, you didn’t put anything on this toast.”

“Oh!” Patton snickered. “Yes. Well… we kind of need you to conjure the food, you know, and you hadn’t conjured any new spreads. I was hoping you didn’t notice.” 

“Right.” Roman thought of a moment, then looked up. “You will find three jams and one contained of butter in the refrigerator.” He smiled as he stood up, not waiting for Patton, and opened the contraption door. “It is fun to conjure food.”

“It is pointless to eat, Roman. We are not physical. We are fed in other ways.” Logan raised an eyebrow as Roman removed some strawberry jam from the refrigerator and then crossed the kitchen to open a drawer. “While it is good that we do not need to shop for groceries, I fear the day we begin to actually need sustenance.”

“You do realize… you’re drinking coffee.” Roman sat back down and began to unscrew the top of the jam jar, cocking an eyebrow. “Coffee I conjured, and Patton made.”

“Yes. The exercise simply allows me to partake in the activity of breakfast, as made up as that might be. Strictly business.” Logan pushed his glasses up his nose and looked at Patton, who was giggling. “Yes, Patton?”

“You’re drinking from a unicorn mug.” Patton said playfully, pointing at it. “You know that, right?”

“All business.” Logan said dryly, looking at at him. For a moment, the two stared at each other, before Roman and Patton erupted into laughter. Logan simply sat there, smirking.

* * *

 

Virgil stared at the ceiling of his room, looking at the shadow his curtains cast from the window. He listened to the laughter in the kitchen, but didn’t smile. It had been another night of nightmares, another night that Thomas surely hadn’t slept well because of him. He drew one arm over his head and rested the other on his stomach, wondering about his dreams, wondering about seeing… her.

“She’s gone.” Virgil muttered, reassuring himself. “The dragon witch is gone. I got rid of her.”

But then why dream about her, surrounded in flame, beautiful and powerful? 

Virgil stared at the ceiling, rigid, unmoving. He let out a long, soft sound, something like a hum, and looked at the purple wall of his room. He moved his hand towards it, walking his fingers up the wall, and hummed again, quieter than before. It was just a nightmare. Surely, it was just a nightmare. He wondered if it would be better to, as he’d practically yelled at Patton earlier, stay by himself on Roman’s day. Roman’s day… it made him nervous. It seemed that nothing bad had happened before they’d each had a day. Virgil’s was spent playing different records, watching as the other sides reacted to his taste in music, from the surprising, like Billie Holiday, to the expected, like Three Day’s Grace. Those were his favorite days - next to Patton’s, which were spent usually in some kind of virtual Build-A-Bear Workshop that Roman had actually conjured for him. Virgil turned his head to the shelf where several different stuffed animals, all black, were stored, and chuckled. 

Then there were Logan’s days, which were spent either reading textbooks or solving complicated puzzles. Virgil’s head was always spinning afterwards, Patton was usually frustrated to the point of tears, and Roman was bragging about how much better his days were, which Virgil met with an eyeroll.

Roman’s days were good. They’d played different board games, built castles, and even done magic. In Roman’s world - a land of pure imagination, it would seem - anything was possible. Virgil closed his eyes, shutting out the thought, but it invaded his mind anyway - _ anything being possible meant bad things are possible too. _

He held up his arm, considering his last encounter with the dragon witch. The scar was faded almost to white, now, less visible. It left an impression that was more than physical. Virgil ran his fingers over it, over the changes in the groove of his skin, and then set both arms on his stomach. It seemed to him that the others had forgotten the danger of Roman’s part of the mind palace. 

Virgil perked at the sound of another couple knocks on his door. 

“Verge? Kiddo? Last chance to come with us.” Patton’s voice came through the door, friendly as ever, inviting. Virgil sat up, toes touching the floor, still in his briefs and T shirt, and flexed his feet, considering. 

He could go. He could hide his anxiety, not say much, and play along. He looked at his headphones across the room, music that was begging to be listened to. He could also not go. That was an option. 

“It would mean a lot to Roman if you go. I think he’s making another big castle for us.” Patton said quietly, wheedling him. “Just give me a yes or no, please?”

Virgil ran his left hand through his hair, groaning loudly, pulling slightly on it. 

“Okay… I think that’s a no. Have a good day!” Patton seemed to pause a moment, feet shuffling outside the door. “Feel better.”

Virgil stared at the space in the doorway, thinking, listening as Patton walked away, wondering if he’d come to regret being alone. For now, though, it didn’t matter. He stood up and walked over to his headphones, digging his phone out of his desk drawer and queuing up Fall Out Boy. 

He looked up at the mirror above his dresser and shuddered, immediately looking away. _ It was a dream, _ he reminded himself. 

A dream. Nothing more.

 

* * *

 

Logan looked up at the large castle in front of him, allowing himself a small smile. From the edges of the brickwork to the deterioration of the windows, Roman had, once again, created a masterpiece. 

“I wonder if Thomas knows just how creative he is.” Patton whispered, also awed. 

“To be fair… everything looks better in your own head.” Roman remarked, stepping forward. He looked truly regal here, his prince outfit fitting perfectly with his surroundings. “Are you both clear on the rules of the game?”

“Nope!” Patton said gleefully, still looking up at the castle. Logan sighed.

“Alright… we will go over it again. Patton. Patton - look at me.” Roman snapped his fingers, impatient. Patton looked at him, away from the castle, with a sheepish expression. “Alright. There is a treasure chest in the castle. I will be moderator, as I know already where it is. There are clues. Whoever finds it first gets a prize.”

“What’s the prize, exactly?” Logan pushed his glasses up his nose, looking bored. “I thought you were too tired to do this today.”

“I’m never too tired to put you through your paces, Logan.” Roman waggled his eyebrows, grinning. “The prize will be that you choose what we do the next time it’s my day. I’m giving one of you my next day.”

“Oh!” Patton grinned. “Okay, that sounds awesome!”

“He already makes the bear place for you. You don’t need his day.” Logan straightened his tie, eyes glinting. “I intend to win this at all costs.”

“Alright. Logan, you must enter from a different point than Patton.” Roman instructed. “Choose. Do you want the door in front of you? Or do you want the door to the cellar?” 

“The basement will do quite nicely.” Logan smiled, allowing himself to consider the possibilities of a castle dungeon. “Where is the entrance to that?”

“That would be the cellar doors right beyond the south gate.” Roman, who had been pacing, now stopped and looked at both of them. “Are you ready?”

“Yes!” Patton got down, as if a sprinter ready to engage in a race. Logan, however, merely stiffened. 

“Get set…”

Patton wiggled, much like a cat ready to pounce.

“Go!”

Logan watched, amused, as Patton ran up the front gates of the castle. He raised an eyebrow as he watched him try to open the heavy doors without much success. Logan allowed himself a snicker as he began to walk around the castle, towards the south gate, following Roman’s instruction. 

“Silly person.” He muttered, shaking his head. He could already here Patton calling to Roman, asking him for help. “You’re just not going to win this game of wits.”

The world was, as usual, quite remarkably detailed. Logan found himself stepping over puddles and flowers, around small patches of mud and large bits of dirt. The grass was not well trimmed, as the castle appeared abandoned. Roman had not, for the last few adventures, filled the areas with anything but them. It was refreshing to Logan to bound with the other sides in a manner that was less social. He liked their small group much more than Roman’s masquerades or banquets. Roman wearing a prince costume was one thing, but him wearing a prince costume made for the night, glittering, a mask over his face, was a bit much for Logan. He liked his days; those were simpler to him. 

Logan smiled when he finally came upon the great cellar doors, which to his delight, were not chained shut. He pulled on an iron handle and found that it swung easily to his will, opening to a derelict staircase into darkness. 

“Figures he wouldn’t remember torches or other illumination devices.” Logan said, staring down into the abyss. He pulled a flashlight from his own pocket - a small one, about the size of USB drive, and flicked it on. Surprised immediately at its strong illumination, Logan began to step down the staircase, into the darkness. 

The stars were stone, which was good for structure, but not great for Logan’s rather slippery shoes. He found himself stumbling, often, and wishing for a handrail. Logan smiled and let out a sigh of relief when he saw that he was at the bottom of the steps, in the cellar itself. Or… he liked the term dungeon. It implied, to him, that some great beast was below the surface of the earth. 

“How… strange.” Logan whispered, observing the darkness. He shined his light out, scanning the dirt wall, searching for a clue. The wall was barren. 

Logan continued to walk forward, deeper into the darkness of the cellar, shining his light mostly to his left, as he held it with his left hand. He paused, listening, waiting.

There was a sound in here. A low, breathy sound.

“Hello?” Logan called out, hearing only his own voice echo. He shook his head, trying to ignore it, but it only seemed to grow louder the longer he walked. He looked around, wary. How far below Roman’s earth had he gone?

“Hello? Is someone here?” Logan called again. Rational, be rational. Roman had probably put different creatures in the castle in order to scare them, in order to throw them off the source of the treasure. All he had to do was figure out Roman’s puzzle. “Is someone there?” He called again, in spite of himself. 

He shined his light to his right, expecting to see only darkness, but instead saw… something shiny. Something reflective. 

Logan’s light traveled up the colors, amazed. Had he already found the treasure? It was such a beautiful surface, such a remarkable change in color - and then, suddenly, an eye, like an eye of a great serpent, shrinking away from his light.

Logan stumbled backward, gasping, turning his light away. He heard a low growl, inhuman. He barely dared to breathe.

“So. You found me.” The voice, the oh so familiar voice, hissed. “Good job.” 

“H-h-h-how?” Logan stuttered, utterly having lost his composure. “How?” 

“How did I survive?” There was a flash of fire from her nose, then darkness. “I don’t know that anything truly dies if Thomas is still thinking about it.” Logan listened, horrified, as her body uncurled, steps lightly circling him. 

“We can beat you again.” Logan whispered, voice trembling. “We did it before.”

“No… you all did it together. Alone… you are vulnerable.” The dragon witch’s voice was soft, slightly broken, but still full of anger. “Tell me… how good do you think it felt, being shoved into Roman’s earth like that? How do you think I felt?”

“Bad.” Logan closed his eyes and cursed his senses for interfering with him coming up with a better word. “Not- not good.” 

“Bad.” He heard a low rumble, something like a laugh. “Yes, that sounds about right.” Logan saw another spout of fire, illuminating her scales a moment, and then there was nothing. “Tell me, Logan. Mr. Logic. How do you think Thomas is today?”

“He seems to be fine. We are all working in harmony.” Logan considered at the back of his mind Virgil, who was in his bed, away from them. “We are all performing our functions as needed.” 

“Hmmph.” The dragon witch sighed, and then there was another flash of flame. “What about now?” She whispered, and Logan gasped, watching a mirror appear in front of him. 

Thomas was looking out, into a mirror, shaving his face. He made a face as he gently pulled his razor through some shaving cream, then tapped it on the sink. Logan breathed shallow, small breaths, unsure what to think. “Why are you showing me this?” 

“Oh… I don’t know.” The dragon witch was next to his ear now, her voice soft in spite of her size. “Because I want you to remember what he looked like from the inside.”

And then she pushed him.

Logan yelled, surprised, and then found himself spinning. He looked around, blinking, vision blurred. He held his arms out in front of him, gasping at the strange fluorescent light. He looked in the mirror in front of him, eyes wide, a small cut from the shave trickling blood down his chin. There was a moment of pause, a moment where nothing made sense. 

Logan put his hand out, touching Thomas’s bathroom mirror, shaking, hyperventilating. He was in Thomas’s body. And Thomas was nowhere in the real world to be found. 


	2. How can you sleep if you don't know how to have dreams?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams are fun. Waking up is necessary.   
> I can't think of any warnings for this chapter.

Cold, hard, dirty. That was Thomas’s first thought.

He blinked, body sore and startled, and felt the surface he was laying on with his left hand, his right fumbling with glasses that were suddenly on his face. Bits of dirt ran between his fingertips, under his nails, crawling under the beds and making homes there. He pushed himself up, body slow and careful, still feeling the ground until he was halfway up, disoriented and blind. He stepped forward, uncertain, and was met with a small crunching noise, like broken glass. Thomas pulled his foot up and looked under his shoe instinctually, but was met with more darkness. He ran his hand over the sole of the shoe and gasped, a painful sensation in the tips of his fingers, causing him to pull his hand away quickly and rub it, ineffectively, on his jeans. 

He thought. Shaving. Right? Something in the bathroom. Or had that been a dream? 

“Surely this is a dream.” Thomas muttered, walking forward delicately, small bits of stuff breaking under his feet. He turned around slowly, searching for a light source, and was pleasantly surprised to see a staircase gently illuminated. Treading forward, still gentle in his step, he soon found himself at the base of the stair, smiling.

“Definitely a dream.” Thomas found himself walking up the stairs, a little over eager, tripping slightly and catching himself now and again. Soon he emerged out from what appeared to be a cellar door, into a forest of some kind, a field. It was summer, and it was lovely. The breeze was gentle, just enough to cool in the sun and cause shivers in the shade. Leaves rustled in the wind, puddles and branches strewn here and there. Thomas mouthed a wow, stunned at the remarkable realism. He turned back, suddenly hit on the arm with a strip of fabric, and looked down to see a very familiar tie. 

“I’m… dreaming that I’m Logan?” Thomas frowned and held the tie up, looking down at his outfit, inspecting it. It seemed to be true. All the clothing was correct. He pulled the glasses off his face and was surprised to see the world become blurry without them, quickly putting them back on his face, considering the fact that his imagination had taken this into detail. It was then that he turned around and stood, in awe, of the castle.

“Wow.” This time, aloud. Thomas walked up to it and ran his fingers along the stone, gasping at the minute details in the work, the grooves, the realism. Never had a dream felt more real. Never had a dream felt more lively. 

He began to walk around the castle, searching for another entrance to the place away from darkness, gaping at all the windows, the glasswork telling stories. Here, a dragon faced a prince. There, a library. There, stars. 

“Give up already?” 

Thomas turned, eyes still wide with wonder, and grinned. “Roman! What the heckity heck are you doing here?” 

Roman tiled his head, eyebrows displaying confusion, and considered this. “Logan… I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m… this is… wait.” His expression changed to one of a knowing smile. “Are you trying to give me a hint to get you to the treasure? Because it won’t work.”

“Treasure?” Thomas grinned, spinning, and looked back up at two large castle doors he hadn’t previously noticed. “Of course there’s treasure! That would be a grand adventure indeed!”

“Right.” Roman looked at Thomas wildly, still confused, and looked back up at the castle. “We.. do this every week. I don’t know what you’re so surprised about.”

“What?” Thomas ran up to the castle door, feeling the wood, and turned back to Roman. “This is way cool, Roman.” 

“Tha-thank you?” Roman’s eyes were now impossibly wide, his arms gesturing as if he had forgotten how to speak. He looked around, halfway expecting to see Patton, and turned back to Thomas. “Forgive me, Logan, I’m just - you’re - you’re not this excitable, usually.” 

“My apologies.” Thomas smiled, wondering how long the dream would last. So far, it felt perfectly wonderful. “Just - you create some seriously amazing worlds. Do you know that?” He looked up at the castle, grinning. “This is so… real.”

“Yes… yes.” Roman was beaming at the compliments, his eyes still marked with confusion, staring up at the castle. “Do you hear that?”

There were several thumps, and then Thomas found himself quickly stepping aside as a large treasure chest spilled out at his feet. Panting, Patton quickly followed.

“Ha!” Patton pointed at Logan, breathing heavily, and then at Roman. “It was… so.. Heavy! But I made it!” Patton collapsed, dramatically, causing Thomas to chuckle and Roman to roll his eyes. “I made it.” He repeated, back heaving with his heavy breaths.

“Honestly, Pat, you have got to exercise.” Thomas reflected on this and wondered what it meant, but then remembered it was a dream, so shrugged. “Do you want help carrying that down the stairs?”

Patton turned his head, face still resting on the stone, and groaned. 

“You don’t have to carry it all the way down, Patton.” Roman smiled, stepping up to the edge of the stairs. “As promised, you get my day the next time that it comes around.”

“Oh! You get days?” Thomas grinned, but was met with a confused stare from Roman, as well as from Patton, who had sat up.

“Yes… Logan, you know this. Your day is Monday.” Roman’s eyebrows did something of a dance as he looked at Patton, who also looked confused. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Yeah - I’m fine.” Thomas grinned, still taking in the realism of the dream, and hoping he would remember it upon waking. “What now, guys?”

“Well, now it’s probably about time for lunch.” Patton stood up, looking from Roman to Thomas, perplexed. “You’re usually the one keeping the schedule, you should know that,  you know?”

“Right.” Thomas nodded feverently. “Sorry.”

“Shall we?” Roman closed his eyes and suddenly, behind him, a red door appeared.

“Let’s shall!” Patton said excitedly, hopping down the steps, forgetting his prior exhaustion. Thomas followed, stepping quickly, and walked after Patton through the door.

Suddenly, a change in environment. They were all three in a hallway. Next to them was another door, a deeper shade of red. Thomas followed Patton out into what appeared to be something of a common area. It looked like his living room and kitchen, but branching from it were four hallways. Thomas observed that at the end of each hallway was a door - one red, one blue, one purple, and one a lighter blue. He spun around wildly, smiling, still unable to believe the incredible realness of his mind. He walked forward, towards the light blue door, and opened it.

The first thing Thomas noticed were photos of his friends everywhere. Stuffed animals large and small were piled into a corner, and next to them a bunk bed. Thomas couldn’t stop smiling. Patton’s room was, in this dream, everything he’d ever imagined. He stepped out, back into the hallway, to find Patton staring at him, smile slightly strained. 

“Oh - I should’ve asked. I’m sorry.” Thomas looked away, expression awkward. 

“It’s okay. Just ask next time, alright?” Patton stepped around him, towards his room. “I just wanted to get something before lunch. Does grilled cheese and tomato soup sound okay?”

“That sounds wonderful.” Thomas walked down the hallway, out into the living area, and thought about this. He could not remember having eaten in a dream before.

He turned and walked down the hallway towards the dark blue door, a door he assumed belonged to Logan, and opened the silver handle. 

Order. That was the first thought Thomas had. Everything was so orderly, so… organized. He looked along the shelves to find that the books were categorized alphabetically and ranged from theology to art to sciences. He knelt down and traced  his fingers along the edges of the books, fascinated, and turned to the bed. The corners of a thin blue comforter were tucked in. There were no photos on the walls, no diagrams. Nothing, really, decorated the room, save for a shelf of black teddy bears dressed in ties and glasses. Thomas sat on the bed, wondering what to do. Dreams usually had direction. This direction seemed to be that of hanging out with the sides, but that was about it. 

He leaned back, looking around at the cleanliness of everything, chuckling a little. For as much as he liked to pretend that Logan was a driving force, it could be argued, in Logan’s room, that he didn’t, judging from the three day old dishes in Thomas’s sink. 

Thomas perked up at two knocks on the door.

“Yes?” He asked, standing up and opening it.

“Do you want to come out and eat with us?” Patton was cheerful, holding a cup of coffee. He held it out to Thomas, and Thomas took it, noting immediately that it was black. _ Of course it was. _

“Yeah, sure.” Thomas smiled, then followed Patton down the hallway, still amazed with the realness of the dream. He looked at every detail, every nook and cranny, and gazed with wonder at  the photos on the walls in the living room. There was a television, but behind it were photos of the sides together, as if taken in a family session. Each looked oddly professional, but showed their personalities. Logan was always serious, or looking annoyed. Roman was always goofy, grinning. Virgil was always hunkered down, looking away from everyone. And Patton was always smiling, right at the front, almost competing with Roman for attention.

Thomas moved into the kitchen and sat his mug down, greeted with the smell of melted cheese and toasted butter. He opened each of the cabinets in turn and found that the plates, bowls, and cups were mostly white, with a few exceptions - interestingly enough, a unicorn mug. He moved to the sink, where a few dishes lay, and then over to the stove behind Patton. There, on a square skillet, were six sandwiches, which Patton was expertly turning and toasting. Next to it was a large pot with a rather rich looking tomato soup. 

“Do you need any help?” Thomas asked, inhaling deeply. It smelled wonderful.

“Uh… not with cooking.” Patton turned and smiled at Thomas, turning back to remove the sandwiches from the cast iron skillet. “If you could go get Roman and Virgil, that’d be great.”

“Okay!” Thomas turned with enthusiasm and walked right down the hall to Virgil’s room. As he did, he couldn’t help feeling heavier, the lights dimming, humming. He paused at the door, wondering about the weight of his arm, and knocked.

“Go away.” Virgil’s voice was hoarse, distorted. 

“Lunch is ready.” Thomas said in a friendly voice, thinking that if it was his own dream, he ought to calm Virgil down. If it was a lucid dream, as it very well appeared it might be, things would work that way. “Are you interested?”

“No.” Virgil’s voice was louder, more echoed. “Leave me alone. I’ll come out later.”

Thomas nodded, backing away from the door, feeling a lightness in his chest. He turned towards Roman’s door to see the princey figure standing there, now in a T shirt and jeans, looking at him. 

“Is he alright?” Roman asked, gently, looking down the hall to Virgil’s door.

“I think he just needs to be left alone.” Thomas shrugged. “Come on! Let’s go eat.”

“You are Mr. Chipper today, do you know that Logan?” Roman grinned at Thomas as they entered the kitchen, the food already laid out. 

“Virgil not coming?” Patton asked, sitting down with the others.

“No.” Thomas shook his head and pushed his glasses up his nose. “I’m afraid not.”

“That’s a shame. I was hoping he’d feel better by lunch.” Patton frowned. “I don’t think Thomas is having a bad day, though. I can’t really tell right now.”

“Mm.” Roman swallowed, taking a long deep breath. “My, Patton, you’ve outdone yourself.”

Thomas spooned some soup into his mouth and almost moaned with pleasure at the rich taste. “Wow.”

“Aw shucks, guys.” Patton grinned. “It’s only because Thomas has been learning how to cook, you know.”   
Thomas chuckled and continued to eat his soup, wondering about the complexities of eating in a dream.

They continued to talk and laugh all throughout the day, Patton and Roman commenting several times on how chipper he was. Towards the end of the evening, they wound down, watching The Lion King on an old VHS in the mind palace. Thomas couldn’t believe how accurate it was - how could he remember so much? - but took in the complexities, the weirdness, and the wonderfulness of it all. Throughout the day, they occasionally checked on Virgil, but he would not leave his room, so they eventually left him alone about it.

Thomas looked at the clock and yawned, noting that the day had wound away. “Wow. I think I should hit the hay.” It felt strange to be tired in a dream. Yet here he was, tired, in his own dream. 

“Okay. I think I’m gonna stay up a bit longer.” Patton was sitting on the floor, coloring some cats. 

“Me too. There’s some ideas I need to think of.” Roman gestured sleepily towards nothing, and Thomas chuckled a little. He stood up, stretching, and walked away, waving a goodnight to the sides.

Thomas paused at Virgil’s door again, wondering, but shook his head. It was just a dream. Virgil was fine. 

He went into Logan’s room and, after finding some tasteful pajamas, curled up in the bed.

“I’m going to have to make an effort to remember all of this.” Thomas said, smiling, drifting off.

* * *

  
  


“Wakey wakey!” 

Thomas frowned, groaning, and blinked. He noted immediately that his vision was blurry. He sat up, confused, and looked around the room. 

Books, organized books, a desk, and blue shelves stared back at him. He shook his head. “I’m supposed to be awake.” He muttered, reaching to the bedside stand where he’d put Logan’s glasses and pulling them on. He stood up, still confused, feeling the carpet under his toes, and walked to the door, opening it to reveal Patton.

“It’s not like you to sleep in, you silly goose.” Patton put his hands on his hips, looking sassy. “Come on, get some coffee.”

“Right.” Thomas looked around, confused, wildly looking for an explanation. 

“I’ll be in the kitchen.” Patton turned and walked down the hallway, glancing once over his shoulder back at Thomas, and then disappearing. 

Thomas felt the walls, tapping them. They felt solid. It felt awake. It felt like he was awake. 

He walked down the hall, still looking around, and into the living space. 

“Logan? Are you okay?” 

Thomas ignored Patton’s voice and walked out to where the front door would be, only to find that it wasn’t there. He turned, eyes wide with confusion, back to the sides.

“Where are we?” Thomas’s voice was strained, small.

“We’re… in the mind palace.” Patton set a tray of biscuits on the table and stepped into the living area, his face full of concern. “That’s where we live, Logan.”

“But…. I was supposed to wake up.” Thomas glanced around, no longer wondering at the pictures. “This is not normal.”

“What’s not normal, Logan?” Patton stepped closer, looking at Thomas as if he didn’t know what to say or do. “What are you talking about?”

“This isn’t normal.” 

The two turned around to see Virgil, hidden under a black hoodie, wearing pajama pants, and pointing at Thomas. 

“And that’s not Logan.” Virgil’s hand was shaking, as was his voice. Thomas’s eyes widened with realization, suddenly knowing, suddenly understanding where he really was. 

“That’s Thomas.” 

 


	3. Hunger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're back to Logan.  
> No warnings? Well, fainting.

Logan put his fingers to the mirror, breathing fast. Shaving cream was on his face - no, Thomas’s face. Shaving cream was on Thomas’s face. His face was Thomas’s face.

“This doesn’t make sense.” Logan breathed. He pressed his hand up against the glass, pressing hard, the other hand following suit, the fluffy stuff on his face falling into the sink with a small, wet plop. One of his hands touched his face, a small cut from shaving, from being startled, mixing in with the cream, stinging. He pulled it away, looking at the hands in front him - heavy, solid, real. He closed his eyes, his body feeling a pull towards the floor, darkness passing over his vision and seeping into his eyes…

* * *

  
  


Logan opened his eyes, staring at the bathroom ceiling, the light above his head humming. He raised a hand to his head, surprised at how it ached, and ran his fingers through his hair. No - Thomas’s hair.

“How… how?” He whispered, completely at a loss for coherent language. 

A buzzing sound. Two buzzes. Thomas’s text tone. 

Logan sat up, careful with Thomas’s body, and ran his hands over the face he inhabited, noticing there was still shaving cream. He looked around and saw bits of shaving cream on the floor and his shirt. 

“Ah. I fainted.” He muttered, standing up, supporting his weight with a hand on the bathroom counter. “Roman would call that cowardly, I’m certain.” 

Roman… Roman’s room.

“This is one of your tricks, isn’t it, dragon witch?” Logan muttered, staring into the bathroom mirror. He reached clumsily for a towel and wiped his half shaven face, running some water and cleaning himself. “You can’t fool me. I’m not really in Thomas’s body, am I?” 

Another two buzzes.

Logan straightened his posture and glared into the mirror, stepping cautiously out of the bathroom, staring down the hall. 

It was Thomas’s hall. Nothing important or special or weird. Just a hallway, with carpet, a few pictures on the wall, white paint. A few steps forward, towards the buzzing, and Logan felt very odd. It certainly felt real. 

He remembered the fears they had faced before, how real the nightmarish cells had been, and shook his head. “You’ve been practicing.” He muttered, stepping into Thomas’s bedroom and finding his cell phone sitting on a nightstand. He unlocked it, knowing Thomas’s passcode, and looked down at the texts from Joan.

 

_ 9:31a.m.: Hey we were thinking about getting food and I wanted to know if you wanna come? _

_ 9:45a.m.: Just let me know, we’d be meeting at pita pit around noon  _

 

Logan stared down at the phone, suspicious. It… felt like a solid, real phone. He frowned, setting it down, not responding but locking the screen instead. The risk of it being a trap was too great.

He sat on the bed, feeling the dark grey comforter, the fibers between his fingers, reflecting on how real the grass had felt the last time the dragon witch had sent them all into another world. The blades had broken delicately between his fingers, juice from the grass leaving little bits of a clear liquid on his skin. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and opened them again, hoping for a hint. 

“I will devise a series of tests.” Logan said to no one but himself. He stood, bare feet pacing the floor. He looked at the feet, unsure if they were his own, and walked downstairs, thinking.

“Thomas needs to eat. I do not need to eat. If this is a trick, not eating will reveal it.” 

His hand stroked his chin, thoughtful, a hollow feeling in his gut. He looked around the apartment, looking at all the detail, all the things that were correct about Thomas’s life. The photos on the walls were there, just as they were in reality. He blinked, looking at the clock, and heard a strange, strangled sound from his gut. 

How realistic could the dragon witch make her world?

Logan sat on the couch, tired, wondering if he would actually be able to tell the difference. He stood and walked upstairs, fetching a notebook from Thomas’s desk, along with a pen, and walking back downstairs. Sitting at a table, he opened the notebook and made a note, looking at the clock across the room. 

 

_ 10:00am.  _

_ Unsure of this reality. Hypothesis: The dragon witch has tricked me into thinking I am in Thomas’s body. Test: avoid eating, as if I am still a fictional construct, I will not need food. If am in Thomas’s body, ramifications of hunger will be felt. _

_ Current feeling: tired. Something is missing from my middle. Unsure what. Will continue to make observations. _

 

Logan sat upright, staring into space, nervously staring at the clock, unsure of what the coming hours would bring. He blinked, slowly, ignoring the anxiety crawling up his gut, ready to face hour one. 


	4. Wonderland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...take the red pill, and I show you just how deep the rabbit hole goes." - Morpheus, The Matrix
> 
> Warnings: shock, vomiting, mention of blood, hunger

“Virgil, calm down. Logan, you too. Let’s all sit down on the couch and talk this out. Come on.” Patton’s voice was strained as he watched Thomas stumble, looking around wildly, large brown eyes unsure what to focus on. He turned to Virgil and gestured his head towards Thomas, but Virgil seemed frozen, unable to respond. 

“This is a nightmare, right?” Thomas asked, voice choked. “This is a nightmare. You guys aren’t - no. No.” 

“No… Logan… we’re real.” Patton reached gently for him, but found Thomas was pulling away, not looking at him, instead looking for differences in their realities. 

“I woke up.” He whispered. He looked at Virgil, who was still frozen, shaking his head, and at Patton, whose expression was growing increasingly concerned. “This was a dream, this is a dream, and I woke up!” 

Thomas ran up to where his front door was and saw nothing but wall, nothing. He went up to where his window should have been - nothing. He turned to Patton, clearly terrified, and ran his hands through his hair, sinking to the floor. 

“I woke up.” He shook his head wildly, wondering, in utter disbelief. “I woke up.” His voice became quieter, as if even his reason was leaving him. He felt distant, numb from the body he inhabited. He saw a shadow and heard voices. He felt something around him, heavy, like a blanket. He felt a hand on his shoulder, leaning him backwards, a dizzying change in perspective. He felt something move his legs; he tried to breathe but  found his breath caught. He suddenly found a nauseating feeling in his gut and leaned forward, vomiting his fictional dinner, before losing consciousness.

 

* * *

 

A commercial sound. A buzzing sound. Fluorescent lights and distant conversations. Thomas breathed, slow, cautious. He felt something over his body, the weight of a quilt, and kept his eyes closed, uncertain about what would happen if he opened them. 

“...shock? But how does that work, we’re not really, fully… I mean…”

Thomas opened his eyes and listened, trying to place the voice. It sounded like Roman.

“He vomited and everything. Virgil hasn’t spoken all day since he said it. He wasn’t really acting like Logan yesterday, you know?” 

Patton, that sounded like Patton. 

Roman, Patton, and Virgil.

“I’m still here.” Thomas muttered, barely even audible to himself. He looked down at his body to find it covered in blankets. Turning his head, he saw a small trash can. It emitted an unpleasant smell that he was certain was his own vomit. He reached, slowly, quietly, above his head, feeling Logan’s glasses, clinking the plastic together. 

“But how do things affect him here? Is he like us? Or does he have to eat and sleep? Because our food is… not real.” Roman’s voice was full of worry. Thomas stealthily began to put the glasses on his face. 

He suddenly heard a small thumping sound, which resulted in him looking to see Virgil sitting next to his head, staring down at him wordlessly. He watched as Virgil put a finger to his lips, signaling that he was also listening, and sat forward, pretending to watch the fictional television.

“This doesn’t make sense.” Patton again. “And if that is Thomas - where’s Logan?” He sounded as anxious as Thomas felt.

“He’s got to be here somewhere. Probably in the basement of that castle in my corner of the mind palace.” Roman’s voice, shaky. “This isn’t natural. I don’t know how to fix it.”

Thomas let out a low breath and looked up at Virgil, who gave him a sideways glance and then looked back at the screen, letting Thomas sit there in his thoughts. 

_ I’m surrounded by my thoughts. Physical manifestations of my thoughts. Which are physical when I want them to be. But here. Not here.  _

“Where am I?” Thomas whispered, looking up at Virgil, the others still talking behind them.

Virgil looked down at him with a pained face and looked away again, answering Thomas’s question with silence.

Thomas listened for another couple of minutes to Patton and Roman arguing, Roman sounding quiet but distraught, thinking of what to do. The blanket over him weighed heavily on his body, which he found strange. If this was his own head, how could a blanket be so hard to remove? 

“You awake there, kiddo?” 

Thomas looked to his feet as he sat up, gingerly on his elbows, to see Patton looking down the couch at him. He nodded. 

“How are you feeling?” Roman asked, walking around, in front of the television. Virgil made no mention that he even noticed.

Thomas tried to open his mouth, to speak, but shook his head. It felt unnatural. Strange. He felt the blankets fall off his body as he full sat up, legs dangling off the deep cushion. They fell with a soft sound onto fictional carpet, missing the trash can by mere inches. He stared at his hands, rubbing his hands into the couch.

This was real, then. He had fallen asleep twice and woken up here twice. This was real.

“Where am I?” He asked, knowing, but needing to hear an answer.

“You’re in the mind palace.” Patton’s words were gentle, as if explaining to a child. Thomas nodded. He felt very child like. 

“We’re… not completely sure how you got here.” Roman folded his hands, pacing slightly, looking like he was trying to think of the right thing to say. Several times, he started to say something, but stopped, Patton and Thomas just watching him, Virgil staring into space. He eventually stopped, rubbing his temple, and sat down next to the fictional television.

“You guys have a T.V.?” Thomas asked, staring at it, still drinking in the disturbing realism of his surroundings.

“Well, we perform our functions whether or not we’re being entertained.” Patton explained. His face seemed like he was trying very hard to be cheerful, but his tone spoke volumes. He cleared his throat, holding back a host of emotions, and gestured to the rest of the palace. Thomas noted his red eyes, his pale complexion. He nodded. 

“I’m not sure what to do.” Roman admitted. “I know this is the kind of thing we need to find an immediate solution to. But I’m plum out of - I just don’t quite know what to do yet.” 

Thomas looked at Virgil, who was unmoving, and then at Patton and Roman. “Is he okay?”

“No. When things get very bad for you, say, a situation is out of your control and he’s unsure if you’ll be harmed, his voice becomes echoed. You’ve seen it in a video.” Roman explained. He looked to Virgil for confirmation, and Virgil nodded. “Usually it’s short lived, he calms himself down, or we help calm him. I’ve never seen it go on this long.”

“How long has - have I been here?” Thomas asked, looking for some sign on the wall that time was passing, finding nothing. 

“About eight hours, today. And all of yesterday.” Roman watched as Thomas nodded, letting this information sink in. “Fear not - we will find a solution. And until that time, you are our guest in this mindscape.” 

Thomas chuckled, drumming his fingers on his knee. “I’m a guest in my own head.” 

“Yes. It’s not so bad. We’ve got movies, I create hugely creative games, there’s books to read…” Roman looked to Patton, who nodded, and smiled at Thomas. “I can assure you that we will do our best to ensure that no harm comes to you whilst you are in our mindscape.” 

“My mindscape.” Thomas corrected. He shook his head and leaned back on the couch. “I’m not totally sure what happened earlier.”

“I think you went into some kind of shock.” Patton said quietly. “We remembered some of the stuff you retained from that college health class. It looked like that. So I got you blankets and elevated your feet.” He frowned and considered this. “I’m not sure, though, if it works the same way here as it would in the real world.” 

“No idea.” Thomas shrugged, looking up at the impossibly high ceiling. “The food I ate yesterday. Is that real?” 

“Not really.” Roman closed his eyes a moment and in front of him appeared a tray of biscuits. “We don't’ have to eat, not quite like that. Patton insists that we share meals together because it’s good bonding time.”

“I also enjoy cooking.” Patton said with a small shrug. Thomas and Patton watched as the tray disappeared again.

“So you can just like, conjure whatever food you want?” Thomas raised his eyebrows in appreciation. “Why conjure uncooked food though?”

“Mostly for him.” Roman gestured to Patton, who smiled again. “He really is your heart, and by golly you love food.”

“I do.” Thomas nodded and looked at Patton. “The soup last night was… really amazing.” 

“Thank you.” Patton grinned, blushing. “I always try to-”

Virgil stood up, throwing the remote on the ground dramatically, interrupting Patton. Without waiting for word from the others he stormed out of the room. A moment later, a door was slammed.

“What… what was that?” Thomas looked in the direction Virgil had went, sitting on the edge of the couch, feeling its texture. Its  _ real  _ texture. 

“He’s upset.” Patton watched as Thomas nodded, sitting back down on the couch. 

There was a pause, and then Thomas looked at Patton and Roman again. 

“Are we sure I’m here?” His voice was low, cautious. “I mean - this is too real. This is too…” He shook his head, looking at everything. “It’s like my house. But different. Why isn’t there a door? Do you guys never go outside? Why aren’t there windows?” 

“Well, there isn't’ really an outside for us unless you summon us.” Roman said casually. He yawned, covering his mouth, and looked back at Thomas. “I’m sorry, I’m rather tired. There are no windows for the same reason. If it would make you feel better, I can make a door, and a short yard. It would be limited, though. Do you remember the scene in the movie Coraline where she walks away from the house and quickly comes back to it?”

“Uh - yeah.” Thomas nodded. He watched as a shadow, something like a sketch of a door, appeared where his front door usually was. “They walked around the world. Literally.”

“It would be a lot like that.” Roman shifted his weight, and Thomas watched as the sketch of the door vanished. “I can do it if you like, though.” 

“Hmm.” Thomas nodded. He crawled off the couch, running his fingers through the carpet, leaning close to it, Logan’s glasses pushed awkwardly on the side of his face. “It’s just so…”

“Realistic?” 

Thomas nodded again, not looking at Roman, fingers trailing through the fibers. He leaned in and smelled it, smelling his familiar cleaner, the air freshener from his wall, and felt the plastic of Logan’s frames press into his skin. 

“Are you okay?” Patton leaned down on the carpet next to him, laying so they faced one another.

“Yeah-yep. No.” Thomas looked at Patton, then at his hand, which was running through the carpet, feeling the friction on his palm. “No. I’m not okay.” 

“I didn’t think so.” Patton admitted. 

The two of them looked at Roman, who was looking away, his face increasingly tired. 

“I think we could all use some rest.” Patton muttered, his own hand running over the carpet. 

“I don’t really want to sleep right now.” Thomas said quietly. Then he found himself stifling a yawn. How could this body, this fictional body, be so tired? “Any idea where Logan is?”

“No.” Roman said with a headshake. He looked distant, strange. “I think your blood sugar is low, Thomas.”

“Hmm?” Thomas leaned up, propping himself on his elbow. “How do you mean?”

“Well, there’s this certain kind of tired I only feel when you haven’t eaten in a proper amount of time.” Roman gestured with his hands, talking more with them than with his words. “And you’re here… which means you aren’t eating.”

“Well… huh.” Thomas sat up, thoughtful. “Well, I mean… huh.” 

“Maybe you’re in a coma.” Patton mused, biting his lip. “How else could you be here?” 

“I dunno.” Thomas shook his head, staring at the walls, still taking in the reality of it. “I don’t know, Pat.” 

* * *

  
  
  
  


Logan looked up at a knock on the door. He felt heavy, strange. How could a body feel heavy like this? 

He walked to the door and opened it, looking outside, noticing immediately how much Joan looked like Joan. He watched as they looked up at him, evidently expecting some kind of invitation inside.

“Come… in?” Logan asked, voice pale and weary. He watched as Joan stepped inside, nodding, accepting the invitation.

“Sorry, I got a little worried about you. The last time you didn’t text back was when all that crazy stuff with that dragon witch was happening.” Joan explained, stepping in, watching as Logan closed the door behind them. 

“I’m unsure how to present this issue to you, Joan, but an intellectual mind like yourself should at the very least appreciate the mystery.” Logan leaned on the door, crossing his arms, and looked at Joan expectantly. “I’m not Thomas. And I’m unsure if you are a trick from the dragon witch.”

“What?” Joan raised their eyebrows and blinked a couple of times. “Thomas, that’s a great prank, but come on now.” They watched as Logan crossed the room, getting a notebook from the table, and passed it to them. “What’s this?”

“A recording of my observations while on the quest to determine if I am, in fact, currently inhabiting Thomas’s body, or if this is a simulation.” Logan explained. He watched as Joan took the notebook and looked through it, sitting on the couch, reading every detail.

  
  


_ 10:00am. _ _   
_ _ Unsure of this reality. Hypothesis: The dragon witch has tricked me into thinking I am in Thomas’s body. Test: avoid eating, as if I am still a fictional construct, I will not need food. If am in Thomas’s body, ramifications of hunger will be felt. _ _   
_ __ Current feeling: tired. Something is missing from my middle. Unsure what. Will continue to make observations. 

_ 11:00am. _ _   
_ _ Hollow feeling stronger. _

_ 12pm _ _   
_ _ It’s not quiet here. Not like the mind palace. There are sounds of cars, sometimes, neighbors.  _

_ 1:00pm. _ _   
_ _ Hands tingly. _

_ 2:00pm. _ _   
_ _ Tried television. I do not find it amusing. I finally located a documentary on egyptology, but many theories seemed based on conjecture. Title of show: Ancient Aliens. _

_ 4:00pm. _ _   
_ _ Time has escaped me. I have a new test to perform.  _

_ 6:00pm. _ _   
_ _ I bleed. Thomas bleeds. Confirmed.  _

_ 7:00pm. _ _   
_ _ However, I would bleed regardless. Is there proof that the blood spilt is my own, or is it Thomas’s? I breathe. I sleep. Best test for functionality is still food.  _

_ 9:00pm.  _ _   
_ _ I am exhausted. Thomas’s bed is quite springy. Will record more in the morning. _

_ 8:00am. _ _   
_ _ Still exhausted.  _ _   
_ __ Found new documentary. This time about Stonehenge. Same show, though. 

_ 10:00am. _ _   
_ _ Feet and face tingle.  _ _   
_ __ I fear ingestion of outside materials. I fear that the dragon witch has placed a poison in the cabinets. 

_ 12:00pm. _ _   
_ _ I write less frequently as there is nothing to report. I have not posted on social media. I know not if Thomas’s phone is real, and I would not want to tarnish his name in any way.  _

_ 1:13pm. _ _   
_ _ I stare at the clock, body growing weaker. What is she doing to me? _

_ 1:47pm. _ _   
_ _ I feel like crying. I am not an emotion. Where did this come from? Pounding, pounding, a pulse in my ears. My head feels pain when moved.  _

_ 4:35pm. _ _   
_ _ I slept some this afternoon. Have not left the house. Uncertain what threats await. _

_ 6:57pm. _ _   
_ _ I am unsure what to do. The sides cannot hear me. I tried to call them. None came. No one can hear me. _

_ 7:18pm. _ _   
_ _ Should I text Joan back? They may be real. _

 

_ 9:00pm. _

_ Feeling strange. Possibly dizzy. Stars in vision. Uncertain still of this reality. _

 

_ 9:15pm.  _

_ I realize I have no idea what hunger feels like. _

 

_ 9:22pm. _

_ Found oreos in cabinet. I am uncertain about ingesting them. They seem hard. What is the white stuff in the middle? I am uncertain of the outcome.  _

_ Is this another trick? _

 

_ 9:47pm. _

_ Have not eaten in two days. Growing tired. Uncertain what I am trying to prove. Thoughts messy.  _

_ Joan has texted. I am unsure what to say back. Seems concerned with my lack of texts. _

 

_ 9:57pm. _

_ Texted back. Asked if this is real or if he is tricking me. _

 

_ 10:14pm. _

_ Joan says they are arriving soon. Seem concerned.  _

 

Logan watched as Joan stood up from the couch and walked to Thomas’s kitchen. They reached into a cabinet and withdrew a cup, filling it with water. They then fished out some peanuts. They carried the two items to the table and gestured for Logan to sit. After a moment, Logan stepped forward, body still tired, and sat at the table, staring at Joan.

“Protein and water.” Joan explained. “Eat.”

Logan stared at the stuff, then up at Joan. “How do I kno-”

“Eat.” Joan commanded. They watched as Logan began to unscrew the top of the canister of nuts, shaking some into his hand, picking them delicately and placing them in his mouth. He chewed, the salt tingly on his dry tongue, and then took the cup and sipped.

“Keep eating.” Joan instructed, voice stern. As Logan ate, Joan watched him, looking around the apartment as if unsure what to think. They took off their hat, placing it on the table, and tapped their fingers on the table. 

For a few minutes, Joan just watched as Logan ate and drank, methodical and slow. Finally, Logan placed the empty glass on the table, which prompted Joan to take it to be refilled.

“This world is real.” Joan said, doing their best to be louder than the tap water. “You’re in the real world.” They came back and placed the water in front of Logan, who gratefully accepted, taking another drink. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was. “You’re not supposed to be here. But you are.” 

“You are not some fictional manifestation of Joan?” Logan asked, swallowing another round of peanuts.

“Nope. I’m real.” Joan raised their eyebrows. “Though I cannot explain how this situation is.” 

Logan nodded, chewing in silence. “This feels nice.” He said, swallowing again.

“Yeah. Eating is great.” Joan snickered, looking over the notes again. “What’s this about bleeding?”

“I determined that one possible test of the reality of my situation was to see if I bled.” Logan held out his arm, pointing to a small cut. “Nothing serious. Simply a test. It proved fruitless, however. We bleed in our world, too. I wish I had remembered that. Simply illogical on my part.”

“Right.” Joan nodded, reading the notes again. They let out a small laugh. “Oh, man -  _ Ancient Aliens _ isn’t a documentary show.”

Logan paused, staring at Joan’s smile, eyes wide. “I do not understand. It was on the history channel.”

“Well, not everything out there is fact.” Joan explained, still giggling. They sighed, staring out into the apartment. “Well, you wanna come back with me, or am I staying here?”

“What do you mean?” Logan frowned.

“Well, you obviously can’t be trusted to care for Thomas’s body, and until we get this figured out, I want that to be a priority.” Joan explained, half joking. 

“Ah. Yes. Well, now that I understand that food is an essential part of being in this body, I will continue to do so.” Logan watched as Joan began to giggle, shaking their head. “What?”

“You’re just… very serious.” Joan said with a shrug, leaning back and crossing their arms. 


	5. Fields and Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman has some introspection.
> 
> Warnings: there's a little bit of blood. There's always angst. Pretty much always.
> 
> It's a shorter chapter, but felt like an appropriate stopping point.

Roman paced back and forth, glancing up now and again at the red door he’d conjured, the same door he conjured every time they were to play a game in Thomas’s imagination. Somehow, it felt different with Thomas there with them, as if he were walking into something private. He shook his head, shaking away the thought. What could be private here, between Thomas and himself? 

He stopped pacing, staring at the door, not wanting to admit Virgil’s lack of speech was making him anxious as well. It was night, the second night Thomas was there with them, and no solution had been thought of or found. Several theories had been presented, but often they were missing pieces. There was also the issue of Logan’s being missing, but as Roman had pointed out to Thomas, since he carried all of them with him, he surely carried some reasoning with him into the mind palace as well. Thomas had agreed this was very possible, but again they were unsure exactly how to test it. Nothing seemed quite right with him inside the palace with them, but instead like an unsettling dream, or perhaps an episode of  _ The Twilight Zone _ . Roman shuddered at the thought. Unsettling stories made him intensely uncomfortable.

He sighed, opening the golden handle, a misty breeze brushing against his face. Roman took a deep breath and stepped into his field, the door quickly disappearing behind him, leaving him alone.

He looked up at the sky, which was reflective of his emotions; stormy, flecks of lightning jumping across the sky, wind chilly, harsh. He shivered, then closed his eyes a moment, after which a jacket appeared around his shoulders, white and red. He smiled, feeling the interior and its warmth, before walking forward, in the direction of the castle he’d conjured a few days prior.

It seemed that it was always in his room. Always his fault, somehow. He drew the hood of the jacket up around his ears, choosing not to look at the trees in the distance, the rustling of uneasy leaves crackling in his ears. 

Patton had once asked him what happened to the games and stories he created when he wasn’t using them, and he had been unsure how to answer. Looking up at the castle, which was now crumbling before him, ruins piled in large heaps, he gazed upon what he had referred to as a disposable idea - something he could do once or twice and then let fall away. It took less energy than something permanent. 

Roman stepped over a rock, balancing himself on the edge of the stone, gazing into the basement, where many of the stones from the castle had fallen. Soon it would fade to dust as they forgot, moved on to the next adventure. Somehow, Roman doubted that this was possible for a little while. 

He sat down, contemplative, thinking of Thomas, kicking his feet against the large foundational stone he had rested upon. Fingers on his left hand ran across cold, damp stone, grooves and texture pressing into thin skin, he wondered where things were going, where things would end up. He noted also that the feeling of low blood sugar had alleviated, making his thoughts clearer. However, Thomas was with them, there, in the mind palace, and could not have eaten. He turned up his lip, thoughtful, and rubbed the corner of the stone, legs relaxing a little. Moonlight streamed through turbulent clouds, and for a moment, there was a glint on the ground. A glittering light from nothing.

Roman stared forward at where it had come from, transfixed, leaning towards the source. He jumped off the stone, looking for the glint in the rubble, roots and grass already growing to take the place of his castle. He closed his eyes, an idea in his mind, and a moment later a ball of soft light appeared in his hand. He held it forward, examining the ground, watching for the reflective surface that had caught his attention, running his fingers over where his light shined. His finger caught it, sharply, and he gasped, jumping.

“Geez Louise.” Roman whispered, sucking on his now bloody finger. He held out the light in his other hand and found the source - a piece of glass.

Several pieces of glass.

Roman tilted his head, pressing his finger into his jeans, and bent down to his knees, eyes wide with fascination. It wasn’t that there was glass that fascinated him, but rather what the glass showed him. He stared, breathing fast, and held up a particularly large piece, watching the unfolding scene in fascination. 

It was Thomas’s bathroom. In front of it was Thomas - but wrong. Thomas, but methodical, rational, logical.

“Logan.” Roman breathed. 

He watched, transfixed, as Logan carefully put toothpaste on the toothbrush in an extremely precise manner. Logan put a little bit of water on the toothbrush and then cautiously put it in his mouth, running it along his teeth as if he wasn’t sure if he was doing it quite right. Roman giggled at his apprehension, watching as he then swallowed the toothpaste, making a horrified face and sticking his head down towards the sink.

“You intelligent fool.” Roman whispered, looking longingly at Logan, eyes wet. Then, louder, “Logan, can you hear me?” 

Logan appeared not to notice, examining half of a five o’clock shadow that was forming on his face, making strange faces in the mirror.

“Logan, can you hear me?” Roman asked louder, more desperately. He blinked, guilt overwhelming, and watched as Logan attempted to use shaving cream, putting far too much onto his face. 

“Logan!” He shouted, breath fogging the mirror. Thunder behind him crackled, lightning striking the ground near where he knelt. “Logan, can you hear me? Logan!” 

Logan began to walk away, turning back one last time, pausing, then shaking his head. He vanished from frame.

“Logan!” Roman cried out again. But Logan was gone.

Rain dripped from his nose to the glass, soaking him, making him shiver. Roman leaned back, mirror still in hand, at a loss for words, a loss for solutions. He felt deflated, an uncomfortable sound, something like a sob erupting from his chest. For several minutes, Roman sat there, holding the mirror, staring into it, running his fingers over the surface. After a time, the rain slowed, a sunrise climbing over the horizon, its orange light spreading over the trees and field. The castle around him was nearly gone, but the mirror in his hand stayed, grasped so tightly that he stopped feeling the small ways the edges cut into his palms. He sighed, long and slow, closing his eyes, and found the words that had been struggling to get out of his mouth, apologetic and resigned. 

“I didn’t mean to let you down.”


	6. Little Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joan and Logan have a discussion. 
> 
> Thomas and Virgil also have a discussion.
> 
> Warnings: Cursing

 

 

Logan adjusted his shoulders, staring across Thomas’s couch at Joan inquisitively. Joan had been glancing at their phone and then back at Logan with an equally curious expression since Logan had finally called them over. The past night had been quite stressful for the both of them. Logan consistently told Joan that he didn’t need food, as he was not real. Joan constantly reminded Logan that Thomas’s body was real, produced sweat, and that he needed a shower and a shave, not just rubbing shaving cream on his face. Little conflicts had become unpleasant arguments and Logan eventually fell asleep on the couch, still fully clothed with traces of shaving cream on Thomas’s face, the night before. Joan had slept in Thomas’s bed.

After Joan had told Logan that Ancient Aliens was not factual, Logan had decided that the television was not something he wanted to pay much mind. For the time being, the television was off, resulting in the only sounds in the apartment being Joan’s vibrating phone and a clock ticking in a distant hallway.

Logan chewed his cheek, unaware of the faces he made while doing it, and looked straight ahead, unsure how to break the tension. Bits of shaving cream were seemingly glued to the pillow he’d used the night before, no matter how much he picked at it. It resulted in a rather uneventful scene, the two of them sitting on Thomas’s couch in near silence.

Joan sighed and put down their phone, finally, looking at Logan, the only activity between them in hours. “Okay.” They paused, watching Logan stop chewing, their face contorted strangely. “Okay. I don’t know how to say this. But I’ve been thinking about it and wondering something - about - you.”

Logan raised an eyebrow and turned so that his body faced more of Joan, looking at them inquisitively, stopping his fingernails against the grooves of the pillow. “Okay. Go on.”

“Well, don’t take this the wrong way. You’re behaving just like Logan. Or just like - like - you know- like Thomas would if he were playing Logan.” Joan rubbed their hands together awkwardly. “I’m just wondering, well, you know. I’m just wondering exactly how to sort out, like, how do I know you’re really Logan?”

“Excuse me?” Logan frowned and pushed invisible glasses up his nose, a force of habit. He gestured, just the same way he always had, talking with his hands. “You read the log of my time alone and agreed that it seemed very likely that I am inhabiting the wrong body, and that I am Logan. You have seen me summoned previously by Thomas for videos and personal conversation. You know that I can take a physical form. It seems perfectly reasonable to me that I could inhabit Thomas’s body, and last night we seemed agreed that that is what is happening. I don’t understand.”

“Right.” Joan nodded slowly, looking away. “Right. It’s just… I mean… what if you are Thomas, and you just kind of, oh god, you know, snapped? I mean, how would you coming through a bathroom mirror make any sense anyway?”

“I don’t know, Joan. But that is indeed how it happened.” Logan glanced towards the stairs, towards the mirror, remembering the faint noise he’d heard the night before. He shook his head and looked back at Joan, focusing on the task at hand. “It is indeed how it happened. I am unsure how to make sense of it myself, Joan, but I am afraid that it is how it happened.”

“Well… what if you’ve suffered a psychotic break, Thomas? I mean-”

“I am Logan, Joan.” Logan’s tone was insistent, hurt. “I would not lie to you. I am not Thomas.”

Joan sighed and gritted their teeth a moment, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “I want to believe you. I do. I really want to. It’s just - I don’t know, after last time, when you went nuts - repeatedly - I’m worried for your safety, and my own.”

“As it has been discussed, nothing sharp will come near my body. I will not shave while I am in this body. I will not cook anything that does not come out of a microwave. I will not drive. If I do not do these things, I will bring no harm to Thomas, nor will I risk it.” Logan tilted his head, looking at Joan with a bit of condescension. “I do understand your concern, Joan, but I am taking precautions. We have discussed this.”

“You also continuously tell me that you aren’t real and don’t need to fucking eat.” Joan snapped. “I can’t keep babysitting you. I mean - I would do anything for you, Thom-Logan. But I have to work, and Talyn is going to start wondering what’s going on. And I’m sure your parents want to hear from you. And your fans. Thomas’s fans.”

Logan nodded, letting this sink in. “Perhaps an alarm could be set to remind me to eat regularly, on Thomas’s phone. What do you think of that idea? You can do what you need to do, and I will be… here. Reading, most likely.”

Joan sat back, shaking their head, rolling their eyes at the situation. “There isn’t a delicate way to say this, but if you are Logan you’re less sensitive than Thomas. I think we should consult someone. Like a professional.”

“Like a physician?” Logan inquired, hand on his chin.

“Like a mental health person. A psychiatrist.” Joan clarified, waving their arms in frustration. “Like someone who deals with things when people don’t act like they usually do. If you are Logan - I know you say you are, but if you are - maybe they can confirm that. If not, they can help you.”

Logan nodded. “I agree. A professional will help me prove my case.” He stood up, eyes brightening, and began to make his way upstairs, towards Thomas’s desk. “I know just who to call.”

 

 

* * *

 

Thomas stared around Logan’s room, tapping his fingers, waiting for morning to come. In the absence of windows, he was unsure how he would know if morning did come. He glanced at a clock on the wall which lit up occasionally, though not always, with the time. At the moment it was dark and lifeless. Another reminder that this world was not the one he belonged to.

He stood up and looked along the bookshelves, surprised that his logical side had retained so much information over the years. There were books on chemistry, chemical engineering, star charts, birds, mathematics, history, and many other subjects. Every book was bound in some shade of blue leather and tastefully decorated. He almost chuckled, running his fingers along the binding of the books, fingering the tops of where pages ended. He remembered then where he was and his smile stopped, replaced with anxiety.

Anxiety. _Virgil_. Maybe Virgil would have some idea of what to do.

Thomas braced himself and opened the door of the room, peeking out. Patton and Roman had been there at every turn and even when Thomas had asked to be alone, it seemed Patton was shoving cards under his door or Roman was walking down a hallway singing. Luck had, however, decided on this occasion to be a lady, as  it seemed they were nowhere in sight or sound. He crept down Logan’s hallway and turned to Virgil’s, moving down it quickly, hoping his feet were light.

He approached the purple door apprehensively, the hallway darker around him than most of the rest of the hallways, and swallowed. His hand rested on the doorknob, unsure of what to do, and his heart hammered. He wondered if this was simply a side effect of being so close to this corner of his mind. _But I’m in my mind,_ he reminded himself. _Does that change things?_

He nearly jumped, hearing a shuffling from the other side of the door. Before Thomas could knock, the door opened a crack, and staring back at him was a mirror of his own face, dark circles under large brown eyes a result of a lack of sleep rather than makeup.

“H-hi. Hi Virgil.” Thomas whispered. “Can I come in?”

Virgil shook his head, the door shaking slightly with him.

“Please, can we talk? I need to talk to you, I think.” Thomas wrung his hands and looked at Virgil, noticing that he was beginning to feel strange, dizzy. “I need to talk to you.”

Virgil opened the door, wide, and stepped out into the hallway, shutting it behind him. He gestured with his head and began to walk down the hall. When he reached the end of it, Thomas was still standing near his door, his mind racing. Virgil rolled his eyes and walked back, stomping slightly, and pulled him by the arm, around the hallway and back down Logan’s hallway. Thomas glanced towards the living room but saw no sign of Patton or Roman. He didn’t have long to look before Virgil opened Logan’s door and threw Thomas into it, nearly knocking him down, following quickly and shutting the door behind them.

Thomas stumbled, then sat back on the bed, breathing easier. He shook his head, surprised at the situation. “I…. did not put two and two together. Do the others not hang out in your room on your day?”

Virgil shook his head, tight mouthed.

“You still can’t speak, can you?” Thomas tilted his head, waiting for the answer he already knew.

Virgil nodded.

“We can write instead. Would that help? I think Logan -” Thomas stopped short as Virgil reached into Logan’s desk and withdrew a whiteboard with an attached marker. “Yeah. That will work.”

Virgil sat on the floor and placed the whiteboard in his lap. Thomas watched as he began to write, curious as to what the anxious side had to say. After a moment, Virgil held up the whiteboard.

Thomas let out a howl of a laugh, then stifled himself at Virgil’s glare, as he read Virgil’s message, which simply read, _WHAT THE FUCK DUDE?_ He put his hand to his mouth, snickering, as Virgil began to erase furiously. “I’m so sorry. That was quite a way to start this conversation.”

Virgil held up the whiteboard again, still looking annoyed. _How are you not completely freaked out right now?_

“I am.” Thomas admitted, squirming. “But… if I only focus on that, I’m going to lose my mind in here.”

Virgil nodded. He turned back to the whiteboard, thinking. A moment later below the first message, _What’s the last thing you remember in reality?_

“I think I was... shaving?” Thomas sighed and leaned back, running a hand over his jeans. “It feels like a dream. I can’t quite pull it back.”

_You need to remember. It could help us get you back, and find Logan._

“Yeah… I know. I’ve been racking my brain since we figured it out.” Thomas looked at the bookshelves, away for a moment, and back at Virgil. “Did you know the whole time?”

_No, but I had a suspicion something wasn’t right._

“Huh.” Thomas nodded. “Don’t you usually have that though?”

Virgil shrugged, erasing with his sleeve again. He sighed, quietly, still echoed, and looked up at Thomas before writing a new message. _I don’t understand how the others aren’t terrified._

“Maybe they are and we just don’t see it.” Thomas offered. “Give them the benefit of the doubt, Verge. They’re… trying to make me feel at home.”

_This isn’t your home._

“I know.” Thomas nodded, voice constricting. “I know.”

Virgil sat back, looking at Thomas, waiting.

“I… have no idea what’s going on. I have no idea what to do. You apparently cant’ talk, you’re so worried. Patton and Roman seem… like they’re doing their best. I have no idea where Logan is. But if you’re all in me, how am I here with you? It just… I really don’t understand. And I want to. I wish Joan were here. They’re great at things like this.” Thomas flopped back on Logan’s bed, wrinkling Logan’s pristine sheets. “I can’t sleep. The food here tastes great - but it isn’t real. Roman says he can do great things, but they aren’t real. What’s the point if it isn’t real? It’s not like I can stay here.”

He looked at Virgil, waiting. Virgil gave a small nod, a nod to keep going.

“I have no idea what the hell is going on.” Thomas admitted. He blinked hard a moment, ignoring the wetness in his vision. “I’m scared, Virgil. I know that you’re better at dealing with fear, and you being scared also scares me.” He put his arms behind his head, settling in. “On the one hand, this is probably a once in a lifetime opportunity. I had no idea how complex it was in here, and it’s kind of fascinating. But I want to go home. I want to see my friends. I want to experience a real sky, the sun, a real shower. I want to - I don’t know. You know.”

He sighed, heavily, looking towards the wall, ashamed of the tear that was rolling towards his ear. “I’ve never been scared like this.” He swallowed, attempting to sound at ease. “I feel so powerless. I’ve been trying to figure out how to see outside. You guys seem like you check in with me, but I have no idea how you do that, or see what’s going on.” He sat up, eyes suddenly wide with inspiration, and looked at Virgil. “Can you show me?”

Virgil bit his lip, and looked away, expression uncomfortable.

“Please?” Thomas crawled off the bed and sat on the floor, across from Virgil. “Or… is that something only you guys can do?”

Virgil looked up at Thomas and shrugged, then looked away again.

Thomas nodded, trembling slightly, and ran his fingers through the carpet of Logan’s room. “You don’t know?”

Virgil wrote on the whiteboard again and held it out, waiting for Thomas to read it, and then stared at the floor.

_I’m sorry. I don’t know how to help you._

Thomas sighed, shoulders hunching, and nodded, he too at a loss for words.


	7. Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan goes to the doctor. Thomas and the sides talk. I'm not good at summaries.
> 
> Warnings: suicide mention

“Alright, who is this guy?” Joan asked, looking out into Thomas’s driveway, shivering slightly in their brown jacket. 

“His name is Thomas, but he requested we call him Tom. I do believe you should recall our meeting from the hospital stay after Thomas… after Patton was… when Thomas was in the hospital.” Logan explained. He had been disappointed that there were no dark blue jackets for him, settling instead on a leather jacket that, if Logan recalled, Thomas had once compared to a fictional Lord of Stars. 

“Hmm.” Joan nodded, remembering. “Didn’t you call the uber ten minutes ago?” 

“Ah. Well, I - look. There’s a car.” Logan frowned and stared as a white sedan drove up the way, passing them by without coming close to stopping. “I suppose that is not ours.”

“Did you call for an uber or not?” Joan groaned. He had thought that, if Logan were really there, he would have more sense for the real world for the other sides. Time and time again, however, the caution that Thomas - or Logan, as Thomas was telling him he was - was far too cautious to do relatively simple things. Thomas’s face was growing a thin sheet of brown hair, contrasting his purple top, and he looked dishevelled, as if even a comb might hold some invisible threat. 

“I am afraid that I went to the application as you requested but was uncertain that the amount was reasonable.” Logan admitted, retrieving Thomas’s phone from his pocket. He put his thumb to the little homing button and opened up the device, scrolling through the apps with his fingers. While he was used to being present when Thomas did things like schedule for cabs and use the phone, it felt foreign in his hand, large and awkward. He opened the app, which still had the address that Dr. Barns had given him saved, and held it out to Joan. “Does this seem reasonable?”

“Yeah, that seems fine.” Joan shook their head, brown eyes wide. “Honestly, Logan, you are a lot more like Virgil than I would have expected.” 

“Throwing caution aside is how I ended up here.” Logan said, stuffing the phone back into his pocket. “In fact-”

“Hey, Logan?” Joan interrupted, an eyebrow raised.

“Hmm?”

“You still didn’t call for the uber, did you?” 

Logan’s nostrils flared as he pulled out Thomas’s phone again, shaking his head, ignoring Joan’s snickers.

* * *

  
  


Logan had thought that Roman’s worlds were real before. He had, after all, been in the real world for Thomas’s videos on multiple occasions. He figured that Roman’s room was exactly like reality outdoors, but that was before. He had taken in the texture of the grass, the temperature of the wind, the flowers, seemed real. They certainly felt real. 

Out here, climbing into the uber next to Joan, Logan realized that it was the realism of a dream at best, lacking solid form. Once out here, once out and walking through the grass to the car behind Joan, Logan realized that much like a dream, Roman’s world shimmered in his vision. It was real… but not quite. 

It was real, but not like this. Not like… wherever this was.

Wind brushed against his cheek and tingled against the tiny hairs on his chin, making him shiver, as he got into the car. Hairs on the back of his neck stood on end at the sensation of the cooler air. He looked down at the hair on his arms and turned his hands over, looking closely at them a moment, as the car began to pull away from Thomas’s house. Thousands, tens of thousands of small strands of brown shown against Thomas’s pale skin near his wrist. Logan had not noticed before the tiny grooves in the hands, the wrinkles. He knew that he also would have had them, but it seemed to him that these grooves were finer in detail, as if his own world were lacking in the smaller details of the outside.

The car pulled along, the radio playing some alternative rock station, as Joan texted Talyn next to him. He noticed Joan looking at him from time to time and then back at their phone, as if trying not to stare. Logan did his best to ignore this, fidgeting instead with the seat belt buckle, running his fingers along the edge of the black leather. 

His fingers? No, these hands were Thomas’s.

He looked down at his hands, the hands that felt like his, and then back out the window, squinting at the afternoon sun. Green rushed by, followed by browns and reds. He found that he could focus on one object for a second, but then his eyes would quickly jump to the next thing, and the next, and the next. He blinked, hard, shutting his eyes tightly for a moment and then reopening them as the car came to a stop light. 

Next to the car, a woman stood with a blonde dog, whose expression seemed happy in the cool of the sunny day. Logan remembered that he had once read about how clouds could form a blanket over the atmosphere of an area, sealing in some heat. He watched as the woman walked in front of them, pulled by the leash, and wished for a cloud.

The car began to move again, and Logan looked at the person in front of them, the driver, for the first time. He appeared to be a balding, older man, a wrinkle of fat at the back of his neck displaying a sunburn each time he moved and exposed the white of the skin underneath. He looked at his large hands, his grey sweatshirt, and chewed on his lip, observing the radio, listening as the D.J. announced the radio call sign.

“And we’re back, you’re listening to WHHZ, your only choice for alternative in the northern Florida area… coming to you live from Newberry! Up next we’ve got traffic, and stay tuned so Margot can tell you if you should wear a jacket today - I’d say yes, it’s been pretty chilly, right folks? Coming up after the break we’ve got  _ Portugal, The Man, The Killers, _ and some good ol’  _ Nirvana _ . Stay tuned!”

Logan looked away, once again tuning out as the radio started to play a commercial for a jeweller, and watched buildings and people go by.

There were so many people. 

There was so much… world.

He looked over at Joan, who quickly looked away from him again, and looked at Joan’s phone.

“You may tell Talyn that I am alright, because I am. I am doing this only to prove to you that I am not Thomas.” Logan said quietly. He looked up at the rearview mirror, then quickly at his knees, trying to keep what was happening a secret from him. “If this a trap set by the dragon witch, it truly is the most elaborate I’ve ever seen.”

“I’ll tell them you’re going. I won’t tell them you’re fine. Not yet.” Joan muttered, unlocking the phone again. “I also want to take a photo of you with facial hair. I don’t think they’ve ever seen that.”

“Hmm. I do not see why we cannot meet them after this. Could we perhaps discuss lunch arrangements?” Logan felt an increasingly familiar hollow feeling in his gut, something Joan had told him was hunger, and looked inquisitively over their shoulder. 

“Let’s… see how this goes first.” Joan said, putting the phone in their pocket. 

“How long until we arrive?” Logan asked, looking again out the window.

“Ten minutes.” The driver answered, causing Logan to jump slightly. 

“I’m sorry, because you said nothing from the moment of our arrival, I was unsure you were able to speak.” Logan admitted as the car came to a stop again. The driver turned and looked at him, expression wild, and Logan once again heard Joan suppressing a laugh.

* * *

  
  
  


Thomas remembered the conversation with his parents about the bridge.

It played over in his mind now as he watched Patton knit from the other side of the couch, fully absorbed in whatever it was he was trying to create. 

He remembered talking to Shea about it as they waited for Thomas’s parents to arrive, sitting there in the lobby, glancing at the clock and sharing memes that Thomas had missed. He remembered how terrified he had felt of their reactions, the looks they had given him. 

He remembered also swearing to himself he would not speak of it again, unless necessary.

He remembered the dreams, accompanied by screaming with no origin, waking up in a cold sweat and going downstairs to watch something light hearted. 

Here, though, sitting across from Patton, remembering him covered in dirt, it was all he could do not to think about it. To not think about what this factor of his personality meant for his well being and life.

He watched Patton’s knitting needles move methodically and wondered once again where Logan had gone off to. If he did not have logic, how was his body? How was-

“Good morning, my fellow mind citizens!” 

Thomas’s thoughts were interrupted by Roman’s booming voice breaking in from the hallway. He looked over and waved quietly as Roman walked around the couch, sitting next to Patton and observing his creation.

“Hey, Roman.” Patton said sweetly, smiling at him. “Check it out!” He held up the yellow sweater, a black T on the front, and grinned. “For Thomas!”

“Oh - Patton- that’s - thank you.” Thomas blushed. He hadn’t even realized what Patton had been knitting, and he’d been sitting there watching him for hours, distracted by his own thoughts and memories. 

“I figure if you’re going to be here awhile, why not?” Patton shrugged. “Where have you been, though, Roman?”

“Yeah, we didn’t see you at breakfast. We don’t need someone else disappearing.” Thomas pointed out. He looked over to the floor, where Virgil was quietly working on a puzzle, and back at Roman. 

“Yes, well, I was preparing for our adventure today.” Roman said with a slick smile, smoothing his hand through his hair. “I figure that while you’re here, and while we cannot figure out why you are here, we should at least have some fun.”

“Is that really the best use of our time?” Thomas raised an eyebrow and looked at Roman quizzically. “We need to figure out where Logan is, and get me home.” He glanced at Virgil, who had frozen in his construction of the puzzle, clearly listening. 

“Well, since we’re no closer to getting you home...I guess I just thought you might not want to be worried and depressed the entire time you’re here.” Roman said, again with that same smile. Thomas glanced again at Virgil, who was now giving Roman a look of familiar distaste, and shook his head. 

“I’m sorry, Roman, I just don’t know if that’s the best way to use my time here.” Thomas admitted, pressing down his curiosities about the capabilities of Roman’s room. He leaned back into the soft couch and looked at Patton, who was knitting intently. “I just have a lot of questions.”

“Okay.” Roman nodded, slightly put out. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, for one, if this is my head, you guys remember everything I remember, right?” Thomas asked, glancing between the three sides. 

“Yes, of course.” Patton nodded, still looking intently at his knitting needles.

“Well, then, do you guys share memories? With each other?” Thomas ran his hand along Logan’s pants and looked at Virgil’s puzzle, a picture of a black cat and a haunted house. “Because if you do, we can figure out where Logan is.”

“Unfortunately, no.” Roman shook his head. “I’m sorry, but that’s not how it works. When you created us, we were separated into different persons in a way.” 

“Wait.” Thomas tilted his head. “You mean everything in here… everything I’m seeing right now… is because of me?” 

“Well yes.” Roman nodded and looked at Patton, who also nodded. “We existed before that, but in a much more abstract sense, more buried in the subconscious.”

“Oh.” Thomas’s eyes were wide, fascinated. “Gosh, I’m both confused and interested. I still don’t get how I’m… here.” He held out his arm, staring at it, and put it down again. “This body feels real. It feels so real. I don’t know how that makes any sense. And you guys feel real in videos. You seem like you really exist out there.”

“We do, but it’s only temporary.” Patton said, taking over explaining. “Logan has tried playing with that before. He said that he had to be within ten feet of you, and beyond that he couldn’t move. What was it he said, Roman?”

“That he was ‘tethered to an invisible anchor on a sinking ship’.” Roman recalled, looking wistful. “It’s strange, but part of me misses that nerd.”

“Yeah.” Thomas watched as Patton looked down at his yarn, sniffling. “I do too.”

Roman put a hand on Patton’s back and patted him, hard, twice, causing Patton to cough, and looked up at Thomas. “I just think you’re missing an opportunity here if you don’t see what possibilities your mind holds. You could do anything you wanted, really. You could, with some practice, conjure things. The only reason I can is because I do it all the time.”

“Maybe. Can you not conjure stuff?” Thomas asked, looking at Patton’s yarn and Virgil’s puzzle. 

Virgil shook his head.

“We work differently.” Patton explained. 

“You ought to know this, Thomas, you did create us.” Roman shifted in his seat and Thomas couldn’t help but notice anxiety flicker across his face before he was fully adjusted. “I’m surprised you’re so full of questions.”

“I just haven’t been here before.” Thomas couldn’t help the twinge of annoyance that crept into his voice. “I just want this to make sense.”

“I’m sure it will, in time.” Patton said cheerfully, smiling widely. “You can’t possibly be stuck here forever.” 

Thomas nodded, looking again at the walls and where the door ought to be, and sighed. “I sure hope not.” 

* * *

  
  


“Thomas Sanders?”

Logan and Joan both perked up at the mention of Thomas’s name from a woman standing in the doorway of the doctor’s office. Logan stood up, considering not for the first time the difference in moving real weight VS the weight of his body in the mind palace, and walked over to the nurse, Joan close at his heels.

“They’re  with me.” Logan explained. The nurse nodded and led them down a maze of hallways, then to a wooden door with a large 237 in brass, and knocked on the door.

“Come in!” 

The nurse opened the door and gestured, and Logan and Joan stepped inside to see a familiar man sitting at a desk. Next to the desk was a round table with some chairs, and next to that was a leather couch.

“Come in, come in, sit wherever you like.” He said, standing up and holding out his hands. “My name is Dr. Barns, but you may call me Tom. Have we met?” He added. “You look familiar.”

“Yes, I believe we have.” Logan nodded, shaking Tom’s hand politely, before Tom turned to offer his hand to Joan, who also accepted. “My name is Logan. You once evaluated my host, for lack of a better word. Thomas Sanders.”

“Oh.” Tom paused a moment before his face lit up with recognition. “Oh! How could I - I could never forget that or him. Or- you.” Tom frowned as Logan and Joan sat on the couch across from him. “What brings you in today, Logan?” 


	8. Reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So. 
> 
> No warnings on this. Sorry it's a shorter chapter.

Thomas walked towards Roman’s room with Patton, Virgil bringing up the rear, some nervousness in his step. He glanced behind him to see that Virgil’s arms were crossed and he was frowning. Patton locked eyes with him and smiled, and Thomas turned back again, to the second red door, which Roman was opening.

“Come now, Thomas. We’ve got to show you a good time while you’re here.” Roman said with a cheshire grin, holding the door open as Thomas and the sides passed through. “Or at least,  _ I  _ have to try.” 

“Also, this is where Logan went missing, so maybe we’ll find him.” Thomas muttered. “At least that’s what you guys said, right?”

“Well… you’re still him, right? Just wearing his glasses.” Roman shrugged, but frowned when Thomas glared at him. “I say that for today, we try and leave all this worry behind us. Just for a moment. Then we can get back to trying to figure everything out.” 

Thomas nodded, looking up at the sunny, fake sky, and took everything in. It was a lot like being outside. It felt very real, seemed very real. The temperature was much like a nice summer’s day, Roman’s favorite season. The leaves and grass stirred, and everything seemed very nice.

That was the problem, though. It was nice. Not real.

Thomas had, over the course of the four days he’d already been in the mindscape, noticed the differences between it and reality. Some were obvious, like Roman conjuring his favorite foods or Virgil darkening his hallway when he walked down it. Others, like the texture of the grass and the weather of Roman’s room, were less so. There were little differences. Bits of yellow and blue sprinkled the grass. The sun in the sky could be directly looked out with minor repercussions. The trees were just slightly off in a way Thomas couldn’t describe. It was as if Roman had looked at all of the illustrations Thomas had seen as a child and melded them into their reality, rather than trying to get a perspective from reality itself.

“I think Roman’s right. I think we could use a break from all this worrying.” Patton said sheepishly, glancing at Virgil, who only stared back at him. “After all, maybe it’ll calm both you and Virgil down?”

“Maybe.” Thomas shrugged. “I just feel like we should be more concerned, like, we should be doing more.” 

“That’s just it, Thomas - we’ve done literally everything we can think of. So we might as well do something else for a moment.” Roman said, exasperated. “We’ve gone to every room. We’ve looked in every crevice. I’ve searched my fields - I’m sorry that we’re no closer to figuring this out, but, we’re doing everything we can. Just try and have some fun, alright?” 

Thomas sighed, looking at Roman, eyebrows raised slightly. 

“For me?” Roman added. “Try for me. And for our silent nightmare over there.” 

Thomas snickered as Virgil let out a low huff. 

“Alright.” Thomas sighed. “What do you have in mind?” 

“Well, remember how I said that you imagine dogs a lot?” Roman asked, beginning to lead them down a path. 

Thomas looked down, thinking, then his eyes lit up. “Yeah, yes - you don’t mean- are we going to see them?” His voice felt suddenly like Patton’s, and he looked next to him to see Patton putting his hands to his face excitedly. 

“Well, why else would we come to my fields?” Roman swung around and bowed dramatically. “Roman Sanders, Prince, Esquire. At your service.”

Thomas shook his head and next to him Patton giggled madly. He looked behind him to see Virgil was staring at the ground, biting his cheek, mood unchanged, and sighed. 

“How do you feel about it, Virgil?” 

They all turned to look at Virgil, whose arms were still crossed, and looked at him, waiting. Thomas watched as Virgil looked away from them, staring instead out at the fields, and stood completely still. 

“Come on, my dark prince. You could use a visit to the furry friends, could you not?” Roman asked, stepping over to him, holding out his hand. “I promise, my fields are nothing to be afraid of. We got rid of the dragon witch, after all.”

“Right.” Patton nodded. “It’s okay, kiddo.”

Thomas couldn’t help but smile, watching the sides of himself try and work together. Virgil did not take Roman’s hand, but he did walk forward, signaling that he was okay with the path they were on. 

For a few minutes, they walked in silence, Thomas taking in the world. It seemed as if the edges of some things were not fully fleshed out until he looked at them, dancing away from his vision. Ghosts of shadows appeared and then became trees, trees became flowers, flowers became grass. It was a strange feeling, as if nothing really existed without him seeing it. He looked forward and saw Virgil and Roman leading the way, stepping through the thick grass, occasionally looking at each other. He looked at Patton next to him, and the two smiled at each other, corners of mouths twitching nervously. After a time the distance between the two groups grew somewhat, and Thomas found himself back with Patton, slightly out of range of hearing.

“So… you guys come here a lot?” Thomas asked, looking again at the trees, taking in the blue around the sun.

“Well, on Roman’s day. Roman technically gave me his next day, so we can choose what we do in here. He’s been very tired lately though, you trying to do so much.” Patton shrugged. “I love it here, and wish we came more often.”

“What do you mean? Can’t you come whenever you want?” Thomas frowned. “It’s not like this is Roman’s personal room, is it?”

“It kind of us.” Patton rubbed his hands together. “You saw Roman has two doors, I have two doors, Logan has two doors. Right?”

“Yeah.” Thomas nodded. “I guess I didn’t think about it.”

“Well, we each have different things in those rooms. I have everything you love, photos of family and friends, that kind of thing. Like in your video. Sort of.” 

Thomas nodded.

“Logan’s, I think is a library. Virgil’s I’ve never seen.” Patton admitted. 

“Do you think Logan would mind if I went in there? Since I’m kind of him, for now.” Thomas gestured to his polo, which was missing Logan’s usual blue tie, and to his glasses, which worked in this world. 

“I don’t know.” Patton shrugged. “You’re welcome to see mine if you’d like. It might make you feel better until we can figure all this out.” 

“Hmm.” Thomas nodded, thoughtful. “That sounds nice.”

The two walked side by side for another few minutes, Thomas still taking in the world, before his thoughts were interrupted again.

“Heya kiddo?”

“Yeah?” Thomas looked at Patton, who had stopped walking and was looking at him curiously.

“You’d… tell us if you didn’t like it here, wouldn’t you?” Patton tilted his head to the side, reminding Thomas once again that Patton was a house for many of his feelings, not necessarily positive. “You’d let us know?”

“Patton, it’s not like I don’t - this is all fascinating.” Thomas sighed, swallowing, and looked away. “It’s fascinating, and everything is so detailed and I never would have known - but -”

“It’s not home.” Patton finished for him. 

Thomas nodded. “Yeah.”

Patton turned, starting to walk again, understanding, and Thomas found himself at a loss for words to match what he felt. 

* * *

  
  


“We’re here!” 

Thomas looked up from his introspection to see Roman running forward, over the crest of a hill, and smiled at his enthusiasm. He stepped quickly over the top, not quite sure what he was going to see, and stood, awed by his imagination.

Dogs, so many dogs. 

Everywhere, dogs.

Little dogs. Big dogs. Fluffy dogs. Puppies. Mother dogs. Father dogs. Old dogs. Young dogs. Fat dogs. Skinny dogs. Just - dogs.

“Woah.” Thomas’s eyes went wide, seeing Roman running among them, jumping and laughing, conjuring sticks and toys. “How are all of these here?” He asked Virgil, who simply shrugged.

“Ah yes!” Patton squealed, his usual joyful demeanor returning to his features, as he bounded down the hill and was immediately tackled by a friendly German shepherd, who licked his face. Patton giggled, gleeful, rolling around in the dirt, scratching the dog’s scruffy neck as Thomas watched at the top of the hill, completely dumbfounded. 

“I… I thought Roman was exaggerating.” Thomas admitted, looking at Virgil. 

Virgil simply shook his head and pointed at the dogs, silently saying,  _ Yeah, no, he wasn’t. _

“Do you want to come with me?” Thomas asked, beginning to step down the hill. “It might help you feel better.” 

Virgil shook his head again, sitting down. Thomas watched as, a moment later, one dog came running up to him - a large black labrador. It sat next to Virgil and the two looked up at Thomas expectantly, gesturing their heads towards the hill. 

Thomas shrugged and began to walk down the hill, unsure what to expect.

Immediately he was greeted by lots of wet noses sniffing him. Some of the dogs tried to jump on his shoulders or legs, grinning, happy to finally meet their master. Others were more shy, standing a ways away. Some barked at him, others whined, and others made no sound at all, panting in the heat of Roman’s summer.

“How do you care for them all?” Thomas shouted to Roman, who was running, allowing a small chain of golden retriever puppies to chase him. 

“We don’t really have to!” Roman yelled back. 

“They’re imaginary!” Patton added, hugging the German shepherd and rubbing its belly. 

“Oh.” Thomas nodded, trying to pet every dog that tried to get to him; it made sense, after all. He bent down and picked up a chew toy and squeaked it. Several dogs looked at him at once, eyes excited. He laughed, throwing the toy, letting the dogs figure out which one it would go to before he was knocked over by a doberman, eager to lick him hello. 

They played for hours, the sun slowly moving across the sky, Thomas filled with a joy he hadn’t known he could feel in this world. He and Patton played fetch and Roman, it seemed, was most attracted to the puppies - or, perhaps they were more attracted to him. Patton and Thomas had a good belly laugh when they looked over at one point and saw that Roman was on the ground, unable to get up, completely covered in puppies who were jumping on him and playing with his outfit. Occasionally, Thomas looked up the hill and saw Virgil laying on his back, his loyal pet beside him, the two staring into the clouds in Roman’s fictional sky. 

It was around dinner when they all began to head back from the fields, with some difficulty. The dogs, now having met Thomas, were insistent on following him home, which could not happen. It seemed only Virgil’s dog was not too keen on this, hanging back, an expression on its face something like Virgil’s trademark smirk. With difficulty, Thomas managed to get the dogs to sit and stay, walking over the hill with reluctance.

“That was wild, Roman.” Thomas remarked, shaking his head. “I’m exhausted.”

“Yes, I try to visit them a few times a week.” Roman chuckled. “This is what happens when you see a dog - you imagine it, apparently. I do wonder if there are cats somewhere sometimes.”

“I do hope so.” Patton said dreamily. “Ah, just imagine, being around cats and not getting itchy eyes or a runny nose…”

Thomas turned to Virgil, who was once again bringing up the rear, and stepped back, letting Roman and Patton fantasize. 

The two walked, in silence, looking around the world, Thomas still gasping and gaping at everything.

“It’s so wonderful here.” Thomas said, smiling at Virgil. “I mean, not like, I don’t want to stay but I’m glad we did that.” He added, catching the look on Virgil’s face. 

Virgil stopped, his foot crunching on something, and looked down. Thomas stopped with him, looking confused, but Virgil had pocketed whatever he’d stepped on already and was walking forward, his expression suddenly furious. 

 

* * *

 

Roman sighed, stepping dramatically into his room, singing to himself. It had been an excellent dinner, and overall an excellent day. He couldn’t stop smiling about how good the day had been, how successful he felt it had been, as he took off his shirt to change for the night, stuffing his costume in his closet next to several others. 

A creak.

Roman turned around and jumped, looking at Virgil on his bed, hand to his heart.

“My goodness, dear Virgil, you frightened me!” Roman gasped dramatically, shaking his head. “What on earth are you doing in here?” 

Virgil held up his dry erase board, which simply read,  _ I know what you did. _

“What I - Virgil, come now.” Roman’s heart began to beat a bit faster and he furrowed his brow, glancing for a half second at his desk then back at Virgil. “We went to the fields, we were all there. Everyone knows what I did.”

Virgil stood up and walked over to Roman’s desk, opening it. He fiddled with the drawer and released the bottom, pulling from it a piece of glass. He held it up to another, smaller piece of glass, the two pieces suddenly sealing together, showing Logan brushing his teeth in front of Thomas’s bathroom, completely unaware that he could be seen.

Roman’s stomach shot to the floor. 


	9. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Any of you complain once more will meet an army of me." -Bjork
> 
> Warnings: Blood, yelling, cursing

For an unending moment, Roman and Virgil stared at each other, Roman’s heart hammering. The feeling left his fingers. His breathing was fast, shallow, just as Virgil’s was becoming across from him. Their eyes locked, and from his peripheral vision Roman saw Logan leave the mirror. 

“I can explain.” Roman said quickly, looking at Virgil.

Virgil only stared at him, nose twitching with fury.

“I- I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t know that - I didn’t mean to get Thomas here. You have to understand that.” Roman turned and paced, bare feet pittering on the carpet. “You have to understand that I would never intentionally - I didn’t mean to.” 

Virgil was holding the edge of the glass so hard between his hands that it had sliced into his right palm. His hands shook and his thumbs pressed into the edges, leaving prints and grease marks.

“I only saw him once. Only one time.” Roman’s voice was choked and desperate. “You have to believe me, Virgil. I want to get Thomas home. I very much want him to be home and happy. However, I, well, I couldn’t tell him.” 

Virgil stood up from the bed, mirror clutched in his left hand. Above his body a shadow grew, darkening their surroundings. Roman swallowed as he watched Virgil’s eyes blacken. He threw himself in front of the door, pausing there, holding it closed.

“Please.” Roman whispered. “Please don’t tell him. I will - but not yet.” 

Virgil stared at him, eyes furious.

“Not yet. Please.” Roman repeated. “Alright?”

For a moment, silence. Then, for the first time in days, Virgil’s throat opened. 

Roman stumbled down the door, back sliding, exposing his skin to cold wood. The sound was low and deafening, it was echoing and frightening, all at once. It wasn’t so much a word as a roar. Roman flattened himself against the door, on his knees now, hyperventilating, panicked. It was a tornado of sound, a whirlwind of noise. Roman couldn’t see anything in his room anymore; it was an area of blackness, the only light coming from the whites of Virgil’s eyes. 

Roman jumped, the door shaking behind him from furious knocks. Before he could move, Virgil was stepping forward, towering over him, the door flinging open. Roman was thrown on his side, the door pushing him to his knees. He scrambled up, running around the edge to see Patton with a worried expression, a dark shadow moving down the hall quickly.

“Roman it’s Thomas. He’s, I think he’s having another panic attack, I don’t know what to do. Nothing I’m doing is helping him.” Patton explained, looking after Virgil anxiously and back at Roman. “I think-”

“Virgil’s affecting him.” Roman’s voice was hollow. “My fault. This is my fault.” 

“What the heck are you talking about?” Patton snapped his fingers. “Hey, focus!”

“My fault.” Roman clutched his chest. “My fault.” 

Patton shook his head and Roman found himself pulled forward, towards the main living area. The shadow around them increased, covering everything in black. Roman blinked in the dark stupidly and and looked towards Patton, who was shaking his arm.

“A light, Roman. Conjure a light.” Patton said firmly.

“My fault.” Roman whispered.

“Conjure a light!” 

Roman could hear breathing, fast panicked breathing. He recognized that sound. Thomas’s breathing. 

“My fault.” Roman said again, fixated. 

There was a great gasp that filled all of them. The darkness ebbed and flowed. Roman could see, for a moment in front of him, Virgil looking at Thomas, holding the mirror to him. The darkness flooded back again. Then a moment later, it faded, the room lightening. 

Roman looked at Thomas. He was seated on the floor in front of Virgil, sitting on his knees, mirror in hand, eyes large. In front of him, Virgil looked exhausted, blinking blearily. 

“Roman.” Thomas whispered, staring at the mirror shard, “Is it true?” 

“Is - what?” Roman said quietly, unlike his usual confident self. 

“Is what Virgil told me true?” Thomas repeated. He looked up at Roman, confusion in his eyes. “Did you know?”

“What, what did you know?” Patton asked, looking between all parties. 

“That there’s a way out.” Thomas explained. He held up the mirror, showing it to Patton. Roman watched, horrified. “That’s my bathroom.”

“Roman…” Patton stepped forward, looking at the mirror more closely. “Roman, where did Virgil find this?” 

“My drawer.” Roman admitted, looking at Thomas. He felt his body could sink into the floor. “Thomas, I’ve only known for about a day, and I don’t know if there are other pieces-”

“You didn’t tell me!” Thomas stood up, snapping. Around him, the room darkened, as it had around Virgil. “You didn’t tell me that we had something figured out as soon as you knew, why,  _ why  _ would you do that?” 

“You’d hate me.” Roman muttered. 

Thomas stared at him, mirror in his hand, breathing hard, before looking away, shaking his head. 

“You’d hate me, and I could never let that - I didn’t mean for this to happen! I’m sorry!” Roman pleaded. Tears began to blur his vision. “I don’t know how this happened, I don’t know how this keeps happening!”

“Keeps happening?” Thomas looked at him again. “What do you mean by that?”

“It was in - I found it in the ruins of the castle we were in the other day. The mirror shards. I didn’t take them all back, I don’t know how many there are, I don’t-”

“Stop.” Thomas held up his hand, silencing his royal counterpart. “Just stop.”

“I’m sorry.” Roman whispered. “I wanted you to like it here.” 

“This isn’t reality, Roman!” Thomas whirled around on his heels and went up to where his door should have been, Patton and Virgil watching the shadow that followed him. “I can't’ go outside. I can’t see my friends or family. I could be stuck here forever, I thought I might be stuck here forever, and you didn’t tell me that you’d figured something out! For what? Pride?”

“I could make a door.” Roman muttered. 

“Great! Make me a door back home then!” Thomas shook his head, lip twitching. “Oh I’m sorry, you can’t! But this mirror could be a door, and you didn’t even tell me - or anyone else, for that matter!”

Roman nodded, letting Thomas take out his anger, silent to it.

“We don’t even know how long one of you can live out there! Did you think about Logan?” Thomas bit his cheek. “Did you think about him?”

“I didn’t think about that.” Roman admitted. “I figured as long as he took care of your body-”

“You didn’t think I’d want my body back? You’d think I would want to stay here with you guys, never seeing my family or friends again? You thought I’d want that?” Thomas threw up his hands. “Why would I want that?”

“I didn’t think you wanted to stay forever.” Roman said sheepishly. “I just wanted things to be nice while you did.”

“They’re not nice because there’s not a damn window there, Roman. They’re not nice because this isn’t fucking reality.” Thomas said quietly, voice toning down a moment. 

“I deserve this.” Roman nodded. The air hung around them, tense. 

“I deserve to be at home.” Thomas said viciously. He began to walk away, towards his quarters in Logan’s room, but stopped. “Roman, why is it always your part of the mind palace that tries to get me killed?”

“I don’t know.” Roman admitted. “I’m sorry.” He added, quieter.

A moment later, Thomas was gone. 

Patton looked at Roman, his expression also angry, and shook his head. “You should have told us.” 

“I know.” Roman nodded, defeated. “I know.”

Virgil stood up and walked out, bumping into Roman’s shoulder on his way out, making him stumble. Roman watched him go down the hall to Logan’s room helplessly. A moment later, Patton began to walk in the same direction before stopping, looking at Roman, and staring at him a moment.

“You could have told me.” Patton said quietly.

Roman nodded. 

“You should have.” Patton said softly. “You should have.” He stopped a moment, sighing, and shook his head. 

A moment later, Roman was left in the living room alone, staring after them, utterly alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I'm sorry that's a shorter chapter, but again this felt like an appropriate cut off point. Thank you for reading!


	10. Hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan and Joan talk to Dr. Tom. A compromise is made.

 

 

“What brings us in is quite simple and quite complicated.” Logan explained, adjusting something where his tie should have been. 

“Hmm.” Tom looked at Joan, whose eyes were wide and skeptical, and then back at Logan. “And could you tell me more about this? You said you are Logan, not Thomas as my files list you, correct?”

“This is correct. Unfortunately, I do not know where Thomas is.” Logan said, crossing his arms. “I was hoping that you could help us figure that out.” 

“Okay. Could you tell me more about what’s going on?” Tom asked, gesturing for the two of them to sit on the coach. Logan did, setting himself down stiffly. Joan paused a moment, then followed, wondering when they would be allowed to speak.

“Well, it seems that I have been shoved into Thomas’s body, for lack of a better word. I cannot seem to contact the other sides. I have no indication of where Thomas is, which sometimes happens if he’s in a very deep and dreamless sleep. This would suggest that he is still dormant in here-” Logan pointed at his head - “but does not answer the question fully.”

Tom nodded and looked at Joan a moment. “I’m afraid I’m not fully understanding what you’re saying, so let me say what I think you are saying. Your name is, on my paperwork, Thomas F. Sanders Jr. You are saying that you are not Thomas, but Logan, a part of Thomas I met a few months ago in North Florida Regional Medical Center.”

Logan gave an exasperated sigh. “Yes. That is what I’m telling you. And Joan can vouch for me being Logan. Thomas is my top priority.” 

Joan shifted, looking slightly uncomfortable. Tom looked between them and gave another small nod, to indicate that he was both listening and thinking. They wondered a moment how much Tom remembered from his encounter with the sides. When they had come back into the hospital room, Thomas had told them that Virgil had popped up out of nowhere to ensure that Thomas was not unnecessarily put into intensive psychiatric care. They looked at the carpet of the office and listened to the ticking of the clock and wondered if Virgil was about to pop up again, tell them that it was all a terrible prank, if their best friend was about to start acting like himself again.

Instead, Logan sat stiffly next to him, looking at Tom as if expecting a miracle, body rigid. “I would like you to help me prove to Joan that I am in fact not Thomas, and I would like you to help me bring Thomas back to his body.”

Tom nodded and glanced at his window, then at the phone on his desk. “Logan, do you mind stepping outside for a moment so that I can speak to your friend in private?” 

“I suppose not.” Logan shrugged. “If it will help us to ensure Thomas’s safety, then it is my duty to do as you ask, although I do not fully understand the reason.” He casually made his way to the door, looking back for a second as Tom told him to wait right outside, and shutting it behind him.

“You don’t think he’ll go anywhere, do you?” Tom asked, sitting down at his desk and gesturing for Joan to take a seat as well.

“I don’t think so. He tends to do what he thinks makes sense, and if he thinks it makes sense for him to stay, he will.” Joan shrugged. 

“I apologize, what was your name again?” Tom asked, tilting his head.

“Joan.” 

“Ah.” Tom nodded. “Now… Joan. I want to get this sorted out, but cases like this are difficult. I am going to need you to be honest with me, and from there we can evaluate Thomas.” 

“You don’t think that’s Logan out there?” Joan asked, rubbing their hands together, nervous.

“I don’t know.” Tom admitted. “I remember being in the hospital room with your friend and seeing several people who looked just like him, but acted differently, all appear. I’m afraid I don’t remember each of their names, but I remember it. This seems quite different from that event.” 

Joan nodded, swallowed. “I want to say that this is just an elaborate prank, or… well. I want to say I believe him when he says he’s Logan. But I’m just not totally sure.” 

“Okay.” Tom nodded, typing something on his computer. “How long have he and you been friends?”

Joan thought a moment. “We’ve been friends for a while, to answer your question. A few years or so.”

“So it would be safe to say you know Thomas well. Do you know the sides well?”

“I’ve interacted with them a few times, but the sides don't’ really like to come out into the real world. It’s a drain on Thomas after a certain point.” Joan shrugged. “Logan’s usually my favorite, actually. The most rational of them.”

Tom let out a noise of acknowledgement, typing something else. “So then, since you know the differences between Thomas and the sides, do you think Thomas is acting like himself?”

“No, not at all. He’s acting like… well, like Logan.” Joan leaned back into the couch, letting the leather squish around him, squeaking slightly. “But he’s also acting very cautious. He doesn’t - he doesn’t eat unless you remind him. He doesn’t sleep, really. I mean he does, but, it’s weird.”

“How is it weird?” Tom paused in his typing, fingers hovering, and looked at Joan.

“Well, it’s like he suddenly doesn’t dream. He’s just… I don’t know how to explain it. And when we called for an uber, he wasn’t sure what was a good price, something we do all the time. It’s like he’s a little kid. He’s so cautious that he’s afraid to even take care of himself.” Joan threw up their hands in frustration before leaning forward and rubbing their temples. “I just, I have no idea what to do here. I can’t keep watch of him all the time, but I don’t know if it’s really him or not. Maybe it is. But it doesn’t make sense.” 

Tom typed on his computer for a minute, going through options, frowning. He paused and looked at Joan, who was staring out the window thoughtfully. “Do you think Thomas, or if the man out there is Logan, either way- do you think he is safe?”

“What do you mean?” Joan looked back at him, face furrowed. “Safe how?”

“I mean… his records indicate a suicide attempt. An attempt that, what were their names… two of these ‘sides’, so to speak, explained to me happened because of their effect on him when one of them was not available.” Tom said slowly.

“Right. I know what happened. Patton died because of the dragon witch.” Joan shook their head. “It was a really hard week, Thomas kept doing things that were very concerning, disappearing, writing all over his walls...”

“Right.” Tom nodded again. “And this is the kind of thing that I can’t really take proper notes on, at least, not in my files. No one would ever believe me. I can take notes on the overall situation, but these sides… no one would believe me, though we both know it’s true.” 

“Right.” Joan agreed. 

There was another moment of silence, Tom fiddling with a pen on his desk, before he looked at Joan again, soft light from the window splaying across the room. 

“I hate to say this, but I’m not sure that Thomas -or Logan- is completely safe right now on his own.” Tom said matter-of-factly.

Joan looked over at Tom, arms now folded across his lap, and looked away. “Yeah. I was wondering that myself.”

Tom swallowed in the silence that hung between them before continuing. “I know that these - these sides, as you two have called them are real. I’ve seen it, and you’ve confirmed it as well. However… last time that something happened, well, Thomas could have lost his life. I take that very seriously, with whatever is happening here.” 

Joan nodded. “What are you saying, exactly?” 

Tom let out a heavy sigh and glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’m saying that given that you are not sure if this is a side, and what happened last time that something like this happened, I have to recommend we put Thomas on a psychiatric hold of seventy-two hours. Minimum.”

“Woah- woah -woah. What?” Joan shook their head, standing up, fiddling with their sleeves. “He’s not dangerous, he’s just - I don’t know if he’s Thomas or not. He might actually be Logan, and Logan is the most sensible side there is. If any side is safe in the real world, it’s Logan - or maybe Virgil. He’s just scared, and so he’s not being totally sensible, but he’s not in danger.”

“Joan, can you honestly tell me you can watch him twenty-four hours a day, every day, and ensure his safety until things are normal again?” Tom asked bluntly. 

Joan looked away, biting their cheek, and realized the reality of the situation. “No.” 

Tom sighed, returning to his computer. “I am going to have to call a police officer over here, then he will be transitioned to an emergency room during his wait for a bed. I’m certain we can find something soon.”

Joan nodded, looking distant, trying not to think about the worry they felt for their best friend. “Can I bring him back inside?”

“Yes… that would be best. We can all talk about it.” Tom nodded. 

Joan nodded back and stood up, crossing the office to the door. Their hand hung on the handle a moment, thoughtful and anxious, before they turned the knob, full of questions that could not be answered.

“Logan, Tom wants to - hey. Are you alright?” Joan paused, observing Logan sitting there tapping his foot excessively, drumming his fingers, eyes flying around the mostly empty hallway. 

“Ssh. I’m fine. Fine.” Logan nodded, still shaky. “My heart rate has accelerated and my breathing seems considerably faster than is normal, but there is no reason to feel this way, so therefore I am fine.”

“Are you… having a panic attack?” Joan lowered their voice and sat down next to Logan, glancing down the hallway at a large woman who was staring into space to see if they were being watched. 

“Preposterous. Thomas and Virgil have panic attacks. I am not an emotion.” Logan said insistently through clenched teeth.  “Well, Virgil gives Thomas panic attacks, often against his will, when he feels particularly anxious, or particularly angry about something.” His speech was rapid, mouth moving at an incredible pace. “After all I have nothing to be anxious about. Nothing at all.”

Joan nodded. “Will you come back into the office with me, then?”

“Certainly. Certainly.” Logan made is if to move, but instead sat there, muscles seizing, breathing more rapid. He closed his eyes a moment and then began to breathe in quickly - too quickly. 

“Count with me.” 

Joan and Logan looked up to see Tom in front of them, pulling up a chair. “Breathe with me. Inhale deeply for one… two… three…. That’s great Logan, keep going… four…”

Joan watched as their best friend - or an aspect of their best friend - followed the exercise, chest rising and falling, and clenched their fists, wondering how Logan was going to react to the news of being thrust into intensive psychiatric care, helpless to stop it. 

A few moments later, a policeman walked down the hall and put Logan into handcuffs. Joan watched, pained at the confusion on Logan’s face, the pleading look he gave them. 

“It’s just procedure. I don’t think you’re dangerous.” The officer said gently, putting a large hand on Logan’s shoulder. 

“Joan - what’s happening?” Logan looked from Tom to Joan with a terrified expression. “Have I broken the law?”

“No. I’m sorry that I didn’t have time to explain it before he got here. You are being put on a hold.” Tom explained. “It’s for your safety.”

“Will it keep Thomas safe?” Logan asked, more to Joan than to Tom, eyes wide with desperation, the officer’s hand impatiently clenching his shoulder.

“Yes.” Joan nodded, even though they were uncertain of the answer. “It will.”

“Visit me?” Logan pleaded. “Wait, where am I going?”

“We’ll figure it out.” Joan said, tone more sure than they would ever be. “I promise.”

“Come on. Let’s go. The sooner we get over there the sooner you get out again.” The officer promised, before steering Logan around and taking him down the hall.

Joan watched as their best friend disappeared around the corner, thumbs in their pockets, and silently bit back fear. 


	11. Inevitability

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I don't think there are any warnings on this one, but I think I've finally reached a point in this fic where things can get exciting. I'm sorry it's a shorter chapter, but thank you guys for bearing with me on the wait. Also this fic is almost fifty pages long! Can you guys believe it? Holy cow! I didn't even realize.

Thomas threw open Logan’s bedroom door, fuming, letting it hit a wall gently but not caring to put it back. He opened a desk drawer, scanned for a moment for something he couldn’t name, slammed it shut, and shook his head, running his hands along the surfaces of everything. What had seemed so real before was quickly deteriorating into dream stuff, dark at the edges, strange and far away. It felt like he could push right through something, but it wouldn’t matter; he would still be here, still here, not out in the real world. 

He turned around, anger still consuming him, to see Patton in the doorway facing Virgil, talking to him calmly.

“In… one… two… three…” 

Thomas looked away, suddenly seized with shame. The hallway behind him slowly began to brighten, the darkness dissipating, revealing the blue paint and the sides looking at each other awkwardly. 

“Better?” Patton asked, rubbing Virgil’s arm kindly.

Virgil nodded, but remained quiet. 

He watched as Patton gave Virgil’s arm a squeeze, then turned to Thomas, biting his lip in nervousness. “Are we going to talk about what just happened, kiddo?”

“Yeah… I think we should.” Thomas nodded. “But - not with Roman. Not right now. I can’t with him right now.” 

“Later?” Patton tilted his head and looked at Thomas expectantly.

“Later. I’m not… I don’t want him like… I just have a lot to think about.” Thomas shook his head and finally resigned himself, sitting on Logan’s bed, pushing Logan’s glasses up his nose. “I mean, yeah, I just - what he did was really dangerous for all of us - even him. And I just don’t know what to think right now.” 

Patton nodded and looked at the floor, then to Virgil. “May we come in?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Thomas gestured for the two to enter, and they did, Virgil plopping himself on the floor and Patton sitting on the bed next to Thomas with a small creak of the mattress. 

For a few minutes the three simply sat in the space, Thomas looking to where a window might have been, chewing on his cheek, face screwed up in thought. Patton fiddled with some threads on Logan’s sheets, Virgil ran his fingers over the carpet. No words passed between them, instead only a sound from the living room that Thomas couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“So. Don’t you think you maybe… over reacted a bit?” Patton looked from Thomas to Virgil, eyebrows raised. “Both of you?”

“I don’t know. I mean… there’s a lot of uncertainties right now.” Thomas ran his hands over his jeans and looked at Virgil, who was looking at Patton with annoyance. “What do you think?”

Virgil shrugged.

“So… is it just that you don’t want to talk, or that you’d rather not risk something happening?” Thomas asked, eyeing him with some skepticism. 

Virgil held up two fingers. 

“Do you have the - yeah. Thanks, Patton.” Thomas sighed as Patton reached over to Logan’s desk and fished out a dry erase board and marker, handing them to Virgil. “Do we have any way of contacting Logan, do you think?”

“I have no idea.” Patton admitted. “I mean, when you want to talk to us, we just kind of appear, you know? You bring us out.”

“I know.” Thomas nodded. “But I’ve never talked to you guys without doing that, have I?”

“No.” Patton shook his head. “But we know Logan’s eating, because we haven’t gotten unusually tired again. And we know that Logan is in your body, so we at least know where he is. That’s progress, right?” 

Thomas nodded, swallowing, looking at the open door, wondering where Roman was. “Yeah. It’s progress.” 

“I don’t know where we go from here, kiddo, but we love you and we want you to get home.” Patton clapped Thomas on the back and Thomas lurched forward slightly, propelled by the motion. He coughed, regaining his breath, and looked out into the room, watching Virgil give a now-rare smirk, and shook his head.

“It’s not enough progress.” Thomas sighed. “Do you guys ever feel different in the real world, when I call you there? I mean don’t you notice how different it is after a while?”

Patton looked oddly thoughtful. He looked at Virgil, who was writing something, and shook his head. “I don’t know. We’re usually on there a few hours, at most. In the hospital, I think things started to feel heavy? I don’t remember. I wasn’t thinking about it. I was far more worried about you.”

Thomas looked at Virgil, who was holding up the board, and read aloud, “‘ _ Do you think you can bring Logan here _ ’?” He paused. “Like… summon him? The way I summon you guys?” 

Virgil nodded. 

“Maybe. I’m kind of scared to do that, now that we know he’s in my body. If he leaves my body, and we’re all here - what happens to my body? Do I go into a coma if no one is there to control it? What if he’s driving, or what if he’s shaving, or what if he’s doing anything potentially dangerous, or even at the top of a stairwell, or...” Thomas let out a long, low groan. “I wish I could say yes, but it seems very risky. There’s just too many unknowns.” 

Patton looked around the room at Logan’s books, a pained look on his face. “Thomas, you know we’re here to help you, right?” 

“Yeah. Of course.” Thomas nodded. “I know.”

“Just… it doesn’t seem like you trust us right now, with everything.” Patton added, glancing at Virgil. “This is your head… and we can’t see things that you see outside clearly, but we can feel what you feel.”

“You guys know what I’m feeling when I’m in here?” Thomas frowned. “ _ All _ the time?”

“Sort of. We are factors of your personality. We know what you’re feeling and doing all the time out there whether or not we’re thinking about it. In here it’s different though. It’s like - yeah, Virgil, like an echo.” Patton smiled as Virgil held up the whiteboard again. “We wouldn’t purposely try to hurt you or suggest things that we think would hurt you.”

“With everything that happened before- okay, I know it’s not on purpose. I’m not saying that. But something in my head - something in here -” Thomas gestured to the room and the hallway - “is very, very wrong, and has done damage to each of you. And now it’s doing it to me, and I don’t want that.”

“And you don’t know what to think because you’re afraid of the parts of you that aren’t good.” Patton finished. “Or… the parts of you that might hurt others.”

“Yeah.” Thomas nodded. He looked at the white board as Virgil held it up again. “Yeah, exactly.” 

It read simply, _ Everyone thinks they’re the good guy _ . 

“And sometimes we’re wrong.” Thomas finished. “Sometimes… we’re wrong.”

* * *

  
  
  


Roman looked down into the hallway, watching as Patton left him alone, the last to walk away.  He looked around the living room, the area where Thomas had pointed to the missing door, the missing windows, and bit his cheek. For several moments he stood there, tears quietly making their way down his face, gnawing at his mouth with anxious tension, before he finally sat down on the floor, running his fingers over the rough carpet.

“It feels real to me.” He muttered. He took a deep, shuddering breath, calming himself slightly, and wiped some snot from his nose with the back of his hand. He shuddered at the sensation, wiping it against the carpet, and breathed again, low, long, and hollow. 

He looked at the television, the near-perfect replica of Thomas’s living room, wondering why he couldn’t quite remember every difference, every detail. Logan would have said it was real. Logan would have said it was enough.

“Logan.” Roman shook his head. “Where are you really?”

Roman stood up and walked down his hallway, towards his room, and paused at the second door. He closed his eyes and a moment later and shoes and a jacket appeared on him where they had not been before. He blinked and realized that he’d lost track of time, with Thomas’s presence in the mind palace instead of the real world. Would it be nighttime when he opened the door? Daylight? And what weather would greet him? Warmth and sunshine? Fog, a metaphor for uncertainty? Rain and wind?

He placed his fingers on the cool metal handle and turned the knob, entering his fields to find darkness, a starless sky above.

“Night.” Roman observed. “I guess that makes sense.”

He stepped forward, walking again towards the ruins of the castle, where the mirror had been before, feeling his way on instinct in the lack of moonlight. It was strange and uncertain, and Roman could have sworn he felt the darkness weighing on him. It felt unnatural in a way, unnatural in a way he could not quite put his finger on. He stopped walking a moment and paused, looking out into the darkness at his hands, pale but greyed in shadows. He blinked and shook his head, taking another step but then pausing again. The darkness was getting worse, heavier even, weighing down his body. He breathed faster now, disoriented, trying not to think the worst.

He looked up, looked behind him for the door. “No. No no no.” He mumbled. “No, not here, not here. I’m not supposed to be here.”

He stepped forward again, turning, spinning wildly, shaking his head. The subconscious was a maze of darkness and forgotten thoughts, a place where ideas were born and others ceased to be, and he’d wandered right into the middle of it. 

Just when he sank to his knees, just when he felt like crying again, he heard it. That low rumble, that chaotic sound from the depths of Thomas’s mind, that sound that talked of horrors and lacked the kindness he was used to. His eyes went wide, startled, and he looked into the blackness to suddenly find two reptilian eyes staring at him, illuminating scales ever so slightly, blinking slowly, certain that she had her prey.

“Dragon… witch?” 


	12. Smudges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I don't think there are any warnings for this chapter. This chapter is pretty Logan centric and kind of breaks away from some of the drama of things, kind of a cooling off chapter before more serious things happen. I predict that the next chapter will be quite dramatic.
> 
> Quote from Everything is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer.

Logan sat at the edge of a very pristine bed, looking into the darkness of the room. There was another bed in the room as well, and in it someone was snoring loudly. Logan had removed Thomas’s shoes and Joan had been kind enough to bring him some of Thomas’s clothes in the emergency room - pajamas, underwear, jeans and a T shirt - but somehow, it felt wrong to move in here and disturb the quiet.

He’d been asked the same questions over and over again, by each nurse and doctor, and found answering answering again exhausting. He’d huffed out a heavy sigh when they’d strapped him to a bed and put him in the back of an ambulance, the EMT asking him once again, “What is your name?” and “Can you confirm your date of birth?” 

Over and over again, on and on it went. Here -wherever here was - he’d been taken carefully off the back of the ambulance and wheeled, bed and all, back to the back room. The EMT continued to assure him that his things were under the bed, something he hadn’t actually been worried about, and eventually unstrapped it, letting him sit up in the quiet, humming hallway. Fluorescent lights were the only sound, and when Logan glanced at the clock and saw it read 1:00am - he understood why.

Inspections had been done. No wires were allowed, no underwire bras, no springs in pens, no Q-tips, no pencil sharpeners, no shoe laces, even - something Logan would not have thought of. 

“Has anyone ever actually tried to die with shoe laces?” Logan asked bluntly when the woman removed them from his shoes, placing them in a bag to be saved for later.

“Yes.” 

“Oh.” Logan looked away quickly, suddenly feeling self conscious. 

“Would you like some cereal? It’s pretty late.” She wasn’t phased by the question.

“Yes. That sounds… nice.” Logan nodded, beginning to more readily recognize the hollow feeling inside Thomas’s body as hunger. “What types of cereal does this establishment offer to its late night guests?”

She’s smirked and come back with some cinnamon toast crunch and skim milk in a carton. It had been enough.

He’d been led down a series of hallways, carrying the bag of clothes he was allowed to have, each door locked with a special key, each one buzzing as he was let through. He observed that the doors were all open, but none had locks. He was led to a room and told, “Your bed is on the right.” Closer to the door. He’d stood there and walked in, thanking her, and sat down at the edge, where he still was.

Every so often, Logan wasn’t sure how often with the absence of a clock or a cell phone, a man in scrubs came into the room. The young man would give him a small wave and offer him some ambien to help him sleep, to which he would say no. The young man would nodd, shutting the door a fraction and creating shadow, only to open it again a bit later. 

“What are you doing?” Logan finally asked when a young man came around again, holding the clipboard.

“Counts.” He answered, marking off his chart. “Making sure everyone is okay.”

“Making sure that all inhabitants are alive?” Logan asked, before he could stop himself.

The man nodded. “Yep. Gotta make sure everyone’s safe. Would you like some ambien? It’s about three in the morning, so it’s not too long before breakfast, but you’ve just been sitting here every time I’ve come in and I don’t think you’ve even moved.”

Logan frowned, considering what psychiatric drugs, even a sleep aid, might do to the inhabitants of the mind palace. It would be no different, he decided, than ingesting some alcohol to relax for a night. “Alright. That sounds helpful.”

The young man led Logan down a hall and to a station where a woman sat behind glass at a desk, looking at a computer screen. Logan observed that a tag on the man’s pocket read Ryan. 

“Michelle, could you get him some ambien? He can’t sleep, got here late.” Ryan tapped the glass a couple of times, getting the sleepy nurse to look up at him, awaking her from a daze. 

“Oh. Yes, of course, yeah. Give me a second.” She smiled at Logan a bit too cheerfully and stepped away from the desk, leaving him to stand here, slightly confused but appreciative.

Back in the room, Logan laid down with Thomas’s pajamas on, having finally changed. It seemed that there was no moving, no contesting what was happening. He closed his eyes, still unused to perfect vision and blinking away the thought that he had glasses to remove, and drifted into an uneasy, dreamless sleep.

 

* * *

 

“Hey. Hey.” 

Logan shook his head, turning away from the sound of something trying to wake him. He swallowed some saliva down his dry throat and reflected on just how tired he felt, how much Thomas’s body weighed on him. 

“Hey, you need to get up, the nurse is looking to get your vitals.”

Logan turned towards the person standing over him and blinked slowly, registering a ruddy, red face and red hair. The man was bearded and several years his elder, but he had a look on his face that spoke of genuine concern for him, which oddly put Logan at ease. 

“Who’s looking for me?” He asked, sitting up slowly, watching as the man stepped away.

“Uh, the nurse, out in the hallwa- Jackie. Jackie. That’s who.” The man nodded several times, quickly, bare feet pittering on the floor. “Oh, I’m Mike, I guess you got here in the night.” 

“Did I miss breakfast?” Logan asked, rolling out of bed slowly, wondering if he should leave his pajamas on or go to change in the restroom. He noticed for the first time across from each of the beds was a sort of opened door closet, with drawers and slots for clothing.

“Yeah, it’s about eleven.” The man nodded, rocking a little back and forth. “It’s about eleven, man.”

Logan nodded and stretched, opting for the moment to leave the pajamas on his person. It couldn’t hurt. 

“What’s your name?” 

Logan turned towards the man, resisting the urge to push glasses up his nose that weren’t there, and said, “Lo-Thomas.” 

“Uh.. okay, Thomas. Nice to meet you.” The man grinned, but didn’t reach out to shake his hand. Which Logan was glad of. He wasn’t eager to touch anyone in -wherever he was.

Logan turned down the hall to see that all of the doors were open. He walked past several and noticed to his surprise that the facility was co-ed; women passed in and out of rooms, towels around their shoulders here and there, carrying small tubs with what he assumed were bathing products. Had he brought his own shampoo? Had he been allowed to bring that? He couldn’t remember. 

He saw a an extremely thin woman with with a device that had a set of thermometers and differing blood pressure cuffs and also saw that she had immediately set her eyes on him. 

“Thomas, right? I think you’re who I’m looking for.” She grinned and gestured to the chair next to the device, where he sat, feeling oddly obedient. “Hold out your arm…”

Logan held out his arm, observing the scene around him. It was nothing like older movies or television had led him to believe, a lifeless place where patients were drugged into submission. Instead, there was life. A few people watched a television which played what looked like some kind of soap opera, curled up in large squishy arm chairs. There was a set of shelves near the television which had board games and several old, worn books. Near that, two women sat at one of the tables in the room coloring, taking different old pencils, mostly dull, crayons, and markers from a tub. 

“I gotta put this under your tongue, dear.”

Logan opened his mouth and found a thermometer shoved in it, but he didn’t complain. 

“Alright, blood pressure is one-twenty over eight and temperature is ninety-eight point nine. You’re good.” 

Logan nodded and stood up, but had no idea where to begin to go. What was he supposed to do here? How was this place supposed to keep Thomas safe? 

He walked out again into the hallway and saw two phones on the wall which looked like pay phones and chairs next to them. One was being used by a woman who looked like she’d smoked heavily every day of her life, but the other was free. He wondered if he was allowed to use the phone or if there were restrictions on it. 

Logan suddenly froze, the realization hitting him - he was in a place where he had no idea what was considered logical.

He turned back into the larger room with the television and sat, almost robotically, in a chair, feeling suddenly very stiff. 

“You okay?” 

Logan turned his head towards the chair next to him, where he hadn’t noticed a young woman was curled up, a book in her lap. She didn’t even look up at him when he sat down, but glanced up from it now. Her voice was quiet. He observed quickly that she had no makeup on and wondered if that was something allowed in here as he absently twitched his scruffy chin.

“Look, I can see you’re new. You’ve still got your bracelet on. But this place isn’t anything to be afraid of.” She folded the corner of her page, marking her place, and shut the book. “What’s your name?”

“Thomas.” Logan reflected on how unnatural the world felt in his mouth.

“Cool. I’m Corey.” The girl held out her hand to shake his. Something about it felt strange, oddly formal. 

He stared at her hand and observed that her wrist was covered in marks, criss crossing white marks, one large purple mark moving downward. He couldn’t help looking, couldn’t help staring. 

“What happened to your wrist?” 

Corey pulled her hand back and swallowed, making a face. “You’re new to this kind of place, aren't you?” 

Logan nodded and for a moment the two stared at each other intensely. Her mouth twitched. His mouth twitched. A giggle erupted from her lips, and one from his own mouth, and suddenly they were giggling, and Logan had no idea why. For a few minutes they just sat there, laughing like that, and Logan wondered if she knew why any more than he did. Their breathing slowed, Logan’s hand over his mouth, her hands over hers, stifling the noise as they quieted, calming again. 

“Yes. I don’t really even know where this is, or what it is.” Logan finally answered, looking around the room. 

“Yeah. It’s not so bad, really. Kinda boring. That’s why my family brings me books.” She held up a book, the title of which was  _ Everything is Illuminated. _ “It’s one of my brother’s favorites.” 

“What’s it about?” Logan asked, settling in a bit. Suddenly he felt a bit more comfortable, a bit more relaxed. 

“Well, a lot of things? It’s like… okay. You’ve got all these different timelines, one from the old village in Germany from its beginning, and then this guy who’s going back there to investigate his family history, and then like - it’s hard to explain, I think, if you’re not reading it. It’s very sad, though.” She added, looking distant for a moment. 

“Why would you want to read it if it’s sad?” 

Corey sighed, shrugging. “It’s beautiful.” 

“Huh.” Logan nodded, looking around the room again. “So… what’s the schedule around here?”

“Well, right now we’re waiting for someone to take us to lunch. But then after lunch is activity group. Then there’s evening goals, and then dinner, and we just kind of hang out. Sometimes they let us watch a movie.” She explained, brushing some hair from her face. 

“We have to be taken to lunch?” Logan frowned. “No one here seems like they need to be-”

“Babysat?” Corey shook her head, running her hands over the edges of the book. “Thomas, we’re crazy, obviously we can’t be trusted.”

“We’re… crazy?” Logan said slowly, cautiously, disbelieving. “I’m crazy?” 

“Oh - no I mean like - it’s just what people say around here.” Corey’s eyes went wide, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean to offend you or anything, just, that’s what we all say around here.”

“Oh.” Logan nodded. “Huh.” He paused. “Why are you here?”

“Well…” Corey looked a bit distant a moment, away from him, out the window of the room. “I get depressed sometimes.” 

“That doesn’t seem like something you’d need to be in here for.” Logan said pointedly, raising an eyebrow. Depressed? Depressed was certainly not something this young woman seemed to be. 

“Yeah. Well.” Corey shrugged, obviously off put a bit by his response.

“I apologize if I have caused offense. It’s just that in meeting you just now, you seem perfectly alright and in a properly healthy mental state.” Logan watched as she chuckled, clutching the book a bit closer to her, fingering the edges of the pages. 

“You talk like a textbook, do you know that?” She shook her head. “I mean.. Wow.”

“Is this a bad thing?” Logan asked, frowning again. 

“No - no.” Corey sighed a bit dreamily, stretching her legs from the chair. “I like it.” 

“Line up for lunch!” 

* * *

 

Lunch was met after a series of hallways and locked doors, each of them walking in what could loosely be considered a line. Logan counted at least ten people, including himself and his roommate, meaning there were eight other people on the ward of wherever it was he was stationed. He walked a bit behind Corey, watching her talk cheerfully to another woman who was at least twice her age, the two laughing and joking as they walked along. Depressed? Wasn’t that was Virgil usually was, not smiling, keeping to himself, rolling his eyes sarcastically at everyone? 

Logan remembered a moment when Thomas had had a conversation with someone growing up, a peer, who had told him that he was depressed. The peer seemed disinterested in daily activities, unsure of himself, and generally sad. Thomas had taken an hour to get him to laugh, paying attention to him personally, and it had taken a great effort, and the peer had cried after. This girl didn’t seem like that.

Logan continued to think about it, even as he was served some sort of strange cafeteria slop, even after he served himself a glass of water from a machine, even as Corey gestured for him to sit next to her. He glanced, again, at her wrists, wondering why he was so curious about the marks. He noticed for the first time on the opposing wrist there was a small tattoo of a lightning bolt, and around it were paler marks. He sipped his water, forcing himself to look away, puzzled by the apparent contradiction. 

“So, who’re you?” 

Logan looked up, putting the cup back on his tray, puzzled. “Hm?”

“You. New guy.” A woman who had been coloring earlier frowned at him, curious, inspecting. “Who’re you? You Mike’s new roommate?” 

“Oh. Yeah.” Logan noted that Mike was at a separate table from them, eating alone. “Why’s he over there?”

“Likes it over there.” The other woman who had been coloring shrugged. “He says he likes eating alone. Fine by me.” 

“Do you dislike Mike?” Logan asked, picking at the strange saucy stuff on his plate. 

“Eh.” The woman shrugged, dodging the question. “So why’re you here?”

Logan glanced at Corey, noticing that her book was still with her, as a child might carry a comfort object. “Oh. I don’t know.”

“Come one. You try to kill yourself? Oh, I’m Sandy by the way.” The first woman added, answering his question. 

“I did not attempt to end my life by suicide, Sandy.” Logan glanced at Corey again, noting how she was curling up slightly, drawing away. “I would like to change the subject from something so candid.”

“Alright.” Sandy nodded. “That’s fine. What do you want to talk about?”

_ Thomas. I want to talk about Thomas and how worried I am for him and how I don’t know how to get back into his head. I want to see if any of you can help me. _ “I don’t know.”

“Oh, what about Gena?” 

The woman next to Sandy grinned, shaking her head. “Sandy, you’re awful, you know that?”

“What? I wanna talk about ‘cha.” 

Logan smirked slightly, recognizing flirting when he saw it, and took another bite of something that might have been lasagna at some point, and pretended not to notice that Corey had opened her book in her lap. 

* * *

 

Logan had been informed after a time that the phones were free to use by anyone so long as a group wasn’t going on. He went up to a phone and sat in one of the strange, old chairs, noting how worn it was beneath him, dialed a “9”, and dialed Joan’s cell phone. 

He waited, hearing the ringing, and wondered if he ought to also dial some of Thomas’s other friends. It rang a few times before a voicemail message came on, telling him to record at the tone. Logan put the phone back on the hook, unsure how to say out here in public, for everyone to hear, that he wasn’t Thomas. 

* * *

 

“Alright, now we’re gonna stretch forward… nice and gentle… just relax…”

Logan bent forward into a strange yoga position, the name of which he had forgotten. Next to him, Corey grinned, turning her spine to face him.

“Seems silly, doesn’t it?” She asked, cracking her knucles as she spoke, bending her feet unnaturally.

“Yes, indeed. You’re quite flexible aren’t you?” He asked, observing her curiously.

In response, Corey simply stood back up and pulled her foot backwards to her chest. She then proceeded to do the same with the other leg, raising an amused eyebrow at Logan’s jaw dropped stare and the class’s murmuring. 

“I am.” She said cockily. 

“Come on, let’s get back to stretching.” The instructor gave Corey a knowing look, and a smile exchanged between them. Logan wondered how often she’d come here. 

They laid down on the floor, on their stomachs, pushing themselves upwards on their hands, and Logan couldn’t help but feel very silly. The stretch felt nice, and most of the patients were participating - one woman was simply laying on the floor asleep - but it was oddly pleasant. He hadn’t expected the place he was sent to be anything short of hellish. 

As they exited, Logan noticed that Corey had taken her book into the room for yoga. He paused. “Corey, may I ask you a question?”

“Uh, yeah. What’s up?” She tilted her head at him as their group leader began to lead them back down a maze of glass hallways, unlocking different doors as they went. 

“Well, you carry that book everywhere. I was wondering if it something that you use to cope with sadness or anxiety, as you carry it many places that you cannot read it.” Logan watched as she looked at him like he was strange for asking, unsure what to do with the question. 

“Well… I hadn’t thought about it.” She held the book close to her chest, looking distant. “Can I read to you?” 

“What?” Logan asked, eyebrows raised.

“Well… my brother used to read to me sometimes. I liked it a lot. I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Stupid idea anyway.” 

“No - not at all. I would be happy to partake in a strange story time.” Logan wondered a moment if he was making a friend. 

* * *

 

After dinner, the television was still on, but Corey and Logan still found a corner to pull two armchairs into. She curled up in it, comfortable with it, familiar. Logan still felt still, strange. The whole day had been alien. He had been told several times he would ‘see a doctor soon’ and he had also been told that this was the way to get out. He looked at his hands, pondering at how solid the real world had become, and how quickly it had solidified, and wondered if he would be able to bring Thomas back before he was dismissed from this place.

“Alright. So. You sure you want me to read this?” Corey asked, holding up the book again. “It’s very sad.”

“Sadness is not - sadness is something that does not often affect me.” Logan said, catching himself.  _ I am not an emotion. I am logic.  _ He considered a moment the variety of emotions he’d already felt in Thomas’s body but dismissed them, pushing them down.  _ I am logic. I do not need to feel.  _

“Okay.” Corey nodded and opened the book, clearly a bit excited. She began to read, smoothly, in a voice Logan found oddly soothing, the text of the book.  “He awoke each morning with the desire to do right, to be a good and meaningful person, to be, as simple as it sounded and as impossible as it actually was, happy. And during the course of each day his heart would descend from his chest into his stomach. By early afternoon he was overcome by the feeling that nothing was right, or nothing was right for him, and by the desire to be alone. By evening he was fulfilled: alone in the magnitude of his grief, alone in his aimless guilt, alone even in his loneliness.  _ I am not sad, _ he would repeat to himself over and over,  _ I am not sad _ . As if he might one day convince himself. Or fool himself. Or convince others--the only thing worse than being sad is for others to know that you are sad.  _ I am not sad. I am not sad.  _ Because his life had unlimited potential for happiness, insofar as it was an empty white room. He would fall asleep with his heart at the foot of his bed, like some domesticated animal that was no part of him at all. And each morning he would wake with it again in the cupboard of his rib cage, having become a little heavier, a little weaker, but still pumping. And by the midafternoon he was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else, someone else, someone else somewhere else.  _ I am not sad. _ ” 

* * *

  
  


Joan walked around Thomas’s apartment, wondering not for the first time what they were going to tell Talyn. They walked up the stairs, crossing into Thomas’s bathroom, searching for some sign, something to tell them that Thomas truly was absent in his own mind. They fiddled with an old shampoo bottle, shaking it, setting it back down, and looked in the mirror. They paused. 

It seemed that something else was there. A shadow of some kind, an echo. 

They reached out, gently, and touched, the mirror, raising an eyebrow in confusion. The strange echo of a something, the strange background image faded in and out, then disappeared completely, leaving Joan to stare only at themselves.

It was something. That was certain.

“Maybe Thomas isn’t crazy.” Joan muttered. They leaned forward, staring back into their brown eyes, squinting, feeling rather stupid. “This is ridiculous, isn’t it?”

But they couldn’t shake it from their mind. Something had been there that wasn’t reflected. 

They stared, waiting, wondering it it would return, waiting. They looked all around the mirror, inspecting it carefully, inquisitive. Then it appeared again. Clearly, just for a second, just for a split second, just for a moment. But it was there. Joan was sure - they were sure. 

“Virgil?” They muttered, staring again, still, at where it had again vanished. They waited, hoping that the image would return, answer some of their questions and suspicions, letting time go by, and seeing nothing but their own face.

Nothing came back.


	13. Silver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silver? Like a mirror? Get it?  
> I'm sorry this chapter took a bit. It was... emotional to write. Sorry it's a bit short, but it feels to me like it ends the way it needs to.  
> Warnings: Mention of self harm, crying, suicide attempt mention

“Come on, Virgil, you look ridiculous.”

Patton pulled back on Virgil, gently, then looked at Thomas, raising his eyebrows. Virgil was smashing his face up against the glass of the mirror, the shard that they had. In spite of Patton and Thomas laughing at him at first for all the strange ways he was contorting his face, it had long since stopped being funny. Now, Thomas and Patton watched Virgil from the dining table as he sat on the kitchen counter and pressed his face into the glass, growing increasingly frustrated that he was getting nowhere.

“Verge, you’re gonna hurt yourself. Come on. Have some food with us.” Thomas gestured to the table, where Patton had laid out a spread of dumplings and rice. 

Virgil glared at Thomas. He tilted his head, irritated, and let out a long, low growl, something like a sigh. 

“We can look for more pieces soon. I’ve gone out and looked, but I don’t know where the castle was, really.” Patton stirred his rice and shrugged, frowning. “I’m not that good with directions, and the fields are so big, it’s easy to get lost.”

“I’m worried about Roman, actually.” Thomas set down his fork, wanting to enjoy the delicious, fictional food, but feeling unable. The longer he spent in his own head, the less the food seemed like food and the more it seemed like playstuff. “By the way, where did you get this stuff to cook?”

“Oh, we already had it. I’d been meaning to make it a while ago.” Patton put a dumpling in his mouth and chewed, looking at Virgil, who was now pressing on the mirror with his hand. He swallowed thickly. “Verge, we need more mirror. I get what you’re trying to do, but I don’t think we can go out into the real world without it.”

Virgil huffed and set the mirror on the counter, where it clattered. He glanced at it, a bit startled at the noise, and slinked his body down from the countertop. 

“I really just… I can’t sit around and pretend things are fine right now.” Thomas shook his head and shoved his plate away from him slightly, feeling nauseous. 

“Yeah.” Patton nodded. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“Yeah. Me too. I guess.” Thomas noted Patton’s decrease in cheer, the slow gnawing of feeling from him, and sighed. “I just wish I knew where Roman was.”

 

* * *

  
  


“Dragon - how- you’re dead, aren't’ you?” Roman sputtered, looking around in the darkness at her glowing, yellow eyes. It was incredibly disorienting. “How did you even drag me here?”

“I’m not dead, clearly.” The dragon witch frowned. “You can see I’m just as...  _ alive  _ as you, after all.”

“Yes…” Roman nodded. “I suppose neither of us is quite alive, in a way.”

“Roman… I’m sorry. I’m in a strange predicament. I may have done something even I didn’t realize was going too far.” The dragon witch stood up, and Roman noted scarring on her chest and shoulders, near her claws, where she had fallen before into the pit. He swallowed and looked away. “I didn’t really mean for things to get this bad, you know?”

“I don’t know. I clearly remember you trying to kill me, and almost killing Patton.” Roman snarled. He wished desperately he’d brought his sword. “Alive or not, Thomas can’t fully function without his morality, or his anxiety, or his logic. Or me.”

“Well.. yes. I would never allow you to die, though. Not intentionally. Without you…. There is no me.” She crouched down, staring at him, challenging him to disbelieve her. “What say you to helping me, if it will also help Thomas?”

“You would never help Thomas.” Roman shook his head, furrowing his brow, doubtful. “Thanks to you Thomas almost died! We almost died! And who is Thomas without his creativity - or his heart, no less? Who is he without a healthy amount of anxiety? Why would I even consider trusting you? I urge you-” He threw his hands out but felt nothing- “I urge you to put me back where I came from. Put me back in my fields so I can gather the mirror pieces, now!”

“I can do that. But I can’t get Thomas back. I… I don’t quite know how now that he’s not at home.” The dragon witch sighed, and Roman noticed her usual demeanor was softer, less angry. “I don’t know what to do, Roman.”

“He’s… what?” Roman lost his anger a moment in the midst of confusion. “He’s here in the mind palace but his body is at home.”

The dragon witch sighed. “It wasn’t supposed to last this long. Have you noticed anything about the mind palace that’s a bit… off?” 

Roman had. Roman had noticed that in his own corner of the mind palace, things seemed a bit less realistic, more dazed and dreamlike. He had noticed food was beginning to have less flavor. He had noticed that the walls were greying, ever so slightly. He had noticed that things were beginning to feel less like they were supposed to, and he scoffed. 

“I don’t know what you’re getting at.” Roman pouted, shaking his head. “Either way, you need to put me back, now.”

“Roman, Roman, Roman. A prince has got to listen.” The dragon witch laid down across from him, looking sleepy. “Thomas affects this world. More than me. More than you. He doesn’t see it as real. And if it continues this way, if he continues to see through your illusions, do you know what happens then?”

“We won’t seem real either, and then…” Roman trailed off, horrified. “No, no, that cannot happen.”

The dragon witch sighed. “No, it cannot.”

“Where is Logan? Where is Thomas’s body?” Roman stood, suddenly feeling valiant. “I don’t care that you’re just acting out of self preservation at this point. Where is he?”

“A hospital for mad people.” The dragon witch said languidly. “And I don’t know when he’s getting out.”

* * *

  
  
  


Logan watched Corey from the hallway, twisting the phone cord in her hands, shaking slightly. She pressed some buttons and waited, looking at her own hands. He couldn’t tell if she truly didn’t notice him or if she simply pretended not to. 

“Hello? It’s me. Hello?” She asked quietly. He observed her carefully, leaning on the wall, pretending to be absorbed in a conversation between an attendant and a patient. “Hello? Hell-”

Logan watched as Corey stood up and walked, quickly, stiffly, toward her room, where she turned the corner.

He waited a moment, and followed.

Logan knocked twice, though the door was open.

Corey sat on the edge of the bed closer to the door, staring at a wall. Tears streamed down her face. She did not look at him. 

“May I come in?” Logan asked.

Corey did not look at him.

Logan walked in and sat, carefully, next to her, looking at the wall. “I know you did not give me permission to enter. But you are crying. You do not seem depressed to me, and I am confused. Why are you here?” 

Corey sniffed. She blinked. She held out her arm, and Logan saw, more closely, scarring the criss crossed - purple and white, from deep cuts. He also saw the recent marks of sutures that had been removed. 

“Did you attempt to harm yourself?” Logan asked, curious, attempting to be tactful. “I knew someone who did that once. He nearly died. He did not think he was important to people around him, to the people he knew. He was wrong about this. We needed him dearly. I stitched him up myself.”

Corey set her arm down, still staring at the wall. She let out a hiccup involuntarily and chewed her cheek.

“I have another friend who likes to give hugs when he believes that people around him are in states of distress.” Logan said, thinking of Patton. “Would you appreciate a hug?”

Corey nodded, ever so slight.

Logan reached around her, placing his arms around her body, feeling strange, stiff. He watched as Corey melted into him, suddenly sobbing loudly, right into his shirt, creating a wet spot on his upper chest. He tried to remember what Patton had done for Roman when he was sad in the past, what had helped him. He remembered Patton rubbing Roman’s back, gently, and tried this, running his hand up and down her back, feeling small ridges of her spine. She shook under him, trying to breathe through something Logan could not begin to understand. When the nurse came by to do counts, he said nothing to them being in the same room together, only nodding. Logan suddenly remembered that Corey had hinted it was not her first time in a place such as this, and for the first time since he had been in Thomas’s body, he felt a true weight of sorrow sink through him to the floor. 


	14. Shards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No warnings! And I'm apparently on a kick about this story and wrote two chapters in a day! Finally some ACTION! I'm so close to my entire reason for writing this, you guys have no idea how excited I am.

Roman sighed. He paced in the darkness of the subconscious, knowing all the while the dragon witch’s eyes were upon him, talking to himself, muttering.

“...just seems convenient… but… then there’s Patton… who would be the wiser… unless… no… not on my watch, no sir… but… Thomas is here… I just… hmm…”

The dragon witch raised her brow, somewhat amused, mostly bored, as he continued to talk to himself, weighing his options. He glanced occasionally at the dragon witch, then back into the darkness that surrounded them, thoughts becoming more and more muddled as they went out into the subconscious.

* * *

  
  


Thomas laid on his back in the living room floor, staring at the ceiling, wondering why it felt like it was drifting further away from him. It seemed blank and his eyes couldn’t quite focus on it entirely. He blinked, hard, and sat up, looking at Patton and Virgil a moment before walking down the hall to Roman’s room. Virgil smiled, only slightly, and followed him.

* * *

  
  


“Alright. Alright. Say I help you. How do I know you’re - are you suddenly good now? What the heckity heck, five abs in one peck…” Roman sat down, looking across at the dragon witch quizzically. “I mean, you - something you made ate me!”

“What’s really going to bake your noodle later on is whether or not you made it because I’m a part of you, or if I made it myself.” The dragon witch said softly. “Let’s not talk about good or evil. They are subjective at best. I am acting out of a need for self preservation. Nothing more.”

“So… you don’t actually care about him. Or me.” Roman shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair, chuckling. “You cruel thing.”

“I am a construct of something that exists in all people, no matter how good the world may say they are.” The dragon witch said heatedly. “I do not choose what I am no more than you choose what you are.”

“I suppose.” Roman nodded, picking at his shirt threads. He groaned. “Alright. Alright. You think you can fix it?”

“I can fix it once Thomas gets back home, but not before.” The dragon witch said in a tired voice. “I only created one gateway. I didn’t think Logan would run off.”

“Gateway? The mirror, you mean?” Roman raised an eyebrow, twisting his face in confusion a moment.

The dragon witch nodded, eyes illuminating the dark. 

“Do you have it?” Roman asked, still skeptical.

Suddenly there was light around them. Roman shielded his eyes from it, startled. He blinked several times, eyes watering, and saw that they were in his fields, in the daylight, in the sun again. He looked at his hands, the grass, and at the dragon witch sitting across from him.

“How are you so powerful?” He whispered, barely daring to breathe. “I don’t understand how any of us, especially - how are you this powerful?” 

The dragon witch shrugged. “How normal is it for someone to be able to pull parts of his subconscious into reality?”

Roman nodded and looked around, still dazed. “Good point. Is this… really…”

“The fields?”

Roman nodded. 

“Yes and no… they’re my fields, within your fields.” The dragon witch stood up, stretching her wings a moment, and looked down at Roman. “It’s as close as I could get.”

“Right.” Roman nodded, standing up slowly, still slightly blinded. “I still don’t trust you, you know.”

“Why would you? I’ve betrayed you, weakened you, nearly killed you…” The dragon witch began to walk, and Roman found himself walking beside her, surprised at her slow pace. “I am no more good than you are logical.”

“So- you’re not completely bad. By that logic.” Roman said pointedly. “How do we get back from here?” 

“We go to the portal in my cave, the one you and the sides opened before.” The dragon witch explained half heartedly. 

“Wait - how much do you know about us? About me?” Roman stopped walking, looking up at the dragon witch curiously. “Before, you said we were - what did you say we were?”

“Idiot friends.”

“Right.” Roman crossed his arms, observing more and more that the dragon witch wasn’t simply tired - she was weak. “Now - and then - it seems that you know everything about us. Our fears especially.”

“Yes.” The dragon witch nodded her large head and tilted it to the side boredly. 

“I don’t understand how you - how much do you know? What are you? And why the change of heart?” Roman gestured wildly with his hands, unable to keep still. “Why am I just supposed to trust you?”

“I told you. I am acting out of self preservation. I care no more for your little friends than I have to.” The dragon witch said nastily, some of her usual personality returning for a moment. She sighed and looked away, continuing to walk on. “I’m tired. I don’t have energy for this. Come with me or don’t. I don’t care anymore.”

Roman stared on, feeling confused and uncertain. He sighed and shook his head, jogging to catch up to the dragon with, unwilling to, at the very least, let her into his fields alone.

* * *

  
  


Thomas walked around in the fields, closely trailed by Patton and Virgil, looking around the fields for a sign of the castle, anything at all. 

“You picked up the mirror piece on the trail to the dogs, right?” Thomas asked, wondering if he was walking remotely in the right direction. One moment a tree looked familiar, another moment it seemed entirely foreign.

Virgil nodded. 

“I think I remember this tree!” Patton pointed, excited, at a particularly gnarled tree. Its surface seemed strange and papery in a way it hadn’t been before. Thomas noted this and nodded in agreement.

“I remember it too.” He nodded, wondering about their whereabouts more than before. “I think it was just up - not too far up here.”

“Yeah!” Patton grinned, running forward towards a glint in the grass. “Hey guys!”

“Yes!” Thomas grinned, running towards him excitedly at the mirror shard in his hand. “We’re in the right area!” 

* * *

  
  


At the entrance to the cave, the dragon witch and Roman stopped to rest, looking out into the fields. He still looked at her warily, feeling stranger than he could ever remember feeling before.

They looked out over the grass, the trees, at the strange richness of the world that was fading right before their eyes. Roman looked up at the dragon witch’s face and saw dark circles under her eyes, a tired face and sleepy eyes. He wondered at his own energy levels, stretching, twisting to pop his back, looking up at her curiously.

“What?” She asked, sighing. “What now?”

“I just don’t feel like you’ve answered a lot of my questions.” Roman admitted. “How can I trust you?”

“Roman, we’ve been in my fields for hours. I didn’t hurt you here. I didn’t hurt you in the subconscious. I brought you back to my fields.” The dragon witch said tiredly. “I’m getting rather annoyed at all the questioning.”

“Well, you did have a creature eat me.” Roman pointed out. The dragon witch snickered at the thought, causing Roman to throw out his hands, an indignant look on his face. “And it’s funny to you!”

“No… what’s funny is just the circumstances. I never would have thought to come to you for help. Never in a hundred thousand years. And yet…” She trailed off, expression growing tired again. 

Roman observed her, feeling slightly playful, knowing he had the upper hand. “And yet you need me.”

“I need someone else there to help convince the others that I want to fix this. It’s not like before. And I always gave you an out before. Each of you, I could have killed, but I gave you an out. I told you from the outset what to do. You didn’t figure it out until Patton went off on his own.” The dragon witch mused. Her tail flicked back and forth gently, much like a cat’s might. “The four of you may be functional on your own, but as a group you are rather stupid.” 

“I’m not stupid.” Roman said quietly, defensively. 

“That’s not - well. Nevermind.” The dragon witch sighed, stepping forward, into the darkness of the cave. 

Roman stood outside, hesitating a moment, willing his legs to follow.

* * *

  
  
  


“Alright, so you’re going to think I’m crazy. But I swear it was there.” Joan gestured to Thomas’s bathroom mirror. Talyn stood at the door, arms crossed. 

“No way.” Talyn shook their head. “I mean, that’s just-”

“Crazy, I know. But remember when he was doing all that stuff and acting nuts and we figured out the dragon witch is behind it? What if that person in the hospital right now is really Logan? What if it’s not just Thomas losing his mind?” Joan pointed at the mirror, eyes wide with excitement. “This could be huge. 

“Well - I don’t know. It seems ridiculous.” Talyn shrugged. “I think Thomas might just be manic again.”

“He was manic because of the dragon witch.” Joan looked at the mirror. He leaned forward and turned the hot water on, squinting at what he saw, causing steam to rise up and gradually cover the mirror. They stepped back, eyes wide, pointing at the mirror. Talyn felt their jaw drop.

There, backwards was a simple,  _ Hello?  _


	15. Scrawl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again it's a short chapter, but this felt like an appropriate stopping place. Maybe I'll get another one out today. Who knows.
> 
> No warnings for this chapter.

Thomas paused, his finger over the mirror, his breath fading fast, the letters still a little visible. His small  _ Hello?  _ seemed impermanent, small, rapidly fading into nothingness. 

“I don’t know if it’s gonna… woah.” Patton stopped mid sentence as he watched Joan write, backwards, in response, as if in its own steam,  _ Hi? _

“Oh my god.”

Thomas and Patton turned, looking at Virgil, mouths open at his speaking. Thomas shook his head, trying to shake off the shock of hearing Virgil’s voice, and fogged up the mirror with his breath again. He paused, unsure what to write, and the breath faded. Groaning in frustration at his own slowness, Thomas bent forward, fogging the mirror with his breath again, this time writing,  _ Joan? _

There was a pause as Patton, Virgil, and Thomas sat around the mirror, staring at it much like a group might stare at a ouija board at a party. Staring back at them were Joan and Talyn, both looking incredibly confused. 

Thomas watched as, after some discussion, Joan wrote back, _ New mirror, who dis?  _

Thomas laughed joyfully, looking at the mirror happily. He felt Patton clap him on the back excitedly, then Patton hug him from the side, and to his surprise, Virgil leaned on his other shoulder. He leaned forward, with some difficulty, and fogged up the mirror again, this time writing,  _ Thomas! _

Thomas watched as Joan stepped back, shocked, and looked at Talyn, brown eyes even larger than usual. Talyn was shaking their head, hands over their mouth. Thomas watched as they walked forward and wrote,  _ Is it really you? _

Thomas sighed as the words faded away, saddened slightly, and fogged it up again. He wrote simply,  _ Yes. _

The three stared at the mirror, unsure what to expect, what to write next. Patton rubbed Thomas’s back comfortingly, and Virgil leaned gently on his shoulder, looking up at him, looking a mixture of concerned and relieved. 

“We can talk.” Thomas whispered. “How is this even…”

He watched as Joan wrote back,  _ How is this possible? _

Thomas laughed, tears of joy springing into his eyes. This time, Virgil fogged up the mirror, leaning forward and writing, _ No idea. - V. _

The three watched as Talyn began to write something, this time spelling out,  _ Is it backwards? _

Virgil leaned forward, fogging up the mirror with his breath again, writing out, _ Yep. - V.  _

Joan leaned forward, carefully writing in reverse so that it would read more easily for the three. They wrote simply,  _ Where are you? _

Thomas leaned forward and fogged up the mirror with his breath, quickly writing before it vanished,  _ Mind palace. _

Then,  _ Where’s Logan?  _

Joan looked awkwardly at Talyn, who leaned forward and wrote, _ Hospital. _

Thomas’s eyes went wide, thinking of all the possibilities as to what had happened. Had he gotten hurt? Was Thomas’s body okay? He looked out into the grass, reflecting on how it felt less real than before, less tangible. Was this why?

He leaned forward and wrote,  _ Why? _

Joan looked uncomfortable again, and Talyn appeared to be biting their cheek. Joan leaned forward and wrote, _ Safety.  _

Thomas leaned forward again, but was overtaken by Virgil, who fogged up the mirror and wrote,  _ Can you see us? _

Joan thought a moment, squinting. They then leaned forward and wrote, _ No. Just words _ . 

Then a moment later,  _ Can you see us? _

Patton leaned forward, fogging up the mirror, and wrote,  _ Yes! Hi! - P.  _

Thomas nodded, trying to take it in. He leaned forward, fogging up the mirror, and wrote,  _ I miss you guys. _

Thomas felt Patton hug him sideways, tighter, but his eyes stayed glued to the mirror as Talyn wrote back, _ We miss you too. _

Thomas blinked, hard, setting back wetness in his eyes, and stared at the mirror, not knowing what to say next.

Virgil leaned forward after a moment, fogging up the mirror. When they leaned back, Thomas read,  _ What now? _

* * *

  
  


“Alright. I’m going first.” Roman stood at the portal, hands on his hips, staring down into the dark abyss that whirled below, towards the bottom of a ravine in the cave. “I don’t trust you if you go first. You might close it.”

“Fair enough.” The dragon witch nodded towards him, willing him to go. “I wouldn’t trust me either.”

“Yes… well.” Roman nodded, looking nervously down at the chasm below. He took a couple of false starts before jumping forward, yelling “Allons-y!”

It was just as before. A pitch darkness around him, startling him, making him feel as if he’d jumped into a deep part of space. Cold, then warm, then hot. Then suddenly his feet were on the ground, making marks in the dirt around his shoes, staining the white canvas. He looked around, wondering - but then saw a familiar tree, his familiar sky. 

“My fields.” He murmured happily.

There was a sound like a rush of wind and suddenly the dragon witch had appeared behind Roman. She looked tired, more so than before, and he looked at her weary eyes with something he might have attuned to pity.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, point blank, surprised by his own words. “I mean… are you alright?”

The dragon witch nodded, still slow, and Roman found himself feeling strange once again. Up ahead, near the crest of a hill, he could see three figures bent over something very intently.


	16. Everything is Illuminated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I've been plugging away at this because the next chapter, that's like... I'm so excited for the next chapter. You guys don't even KNOW.
> 
> Quote that Corey reads is from the novel Everything is Illuminated by Jonathon Safren Foer. 
> 
> Warnings: self harm mention, suicide attempt mention, scars, cursing
> 
> I think that's everything. Let me know if I missed a warning.

  
  


“Thomas?”

Logan looked up at Thomas’s name at a face that had become familiar to him over the past few days. Jackie was known as a favorite on the ward, something he’d learned soon after she’d initially taken his blood pressure.

“Yes?” He asked, glancing away from his mid-morning card game with Corey and Mike.

“Dr. Martin would like to see you.” 

“Oh.” Logan stood, excusing himself from the table, and went out to follow Jackie down the a hallway. At the end of it, a door was open to a small office Logan had also become familiar with, where an older gentlemen with a ponytail down his back sat, writing something on his computer.

“Ah! Thomas, come in. Thank you Jackie.”

Logan entered at a wave of the man’s hand and sat down in his usual chair, squarely in the middle of the desk area, and watched as Jackie closed the door.

“Thomas… Thomas. How’re doing, Thomas?” Dr. Martin turned towards him, looking friendlier than usual, a happy expression on his face Logan couldn’t quite comprehend in a drab place such as this.

“I’m quite alright.” Logan answered, stiffening his posture.

“How’s your mood been?” Dr. Martin asked simply.

“Quite good.” Logan admitted. “I’ve made some friends which makes the experience considerably more tolerable.”

“Ha! Yes, that can help a lot in a boring place like this.” Dr. Martin clapped his hands. He turned to his computer and typed something, then turned back to Logan. “Any thoughts of suicide, or of harming others?”

“No and no.” Logan replied. He considered this, how there had been no contact with the sides, no interaction between them and his feelings. He wondered if there had been any interaction the other way around.

“Well, it seems that it is your third day here, meaning that your time here involuntarily is up. It is up to you now - do you believe you are ready to leave? I think you are, because you’re not having any suicidal thoughts and you seem safe, but how do you feel about it?” Dr. Martin asked, typing, but still looking straight at Logan.

Logan considered this a moment, considering that there had been no ill effects on his mood or body, on Thomas’s body. He considered how every day it felt more and more like his own body, like Thomas wasn’t supposed to be the occupant. He thumbed his jeans - Thomas’s jeans, he reminded himself, and nodded. “I believe I am ready and safe to leave this facility.”

“Great! Fantastic. I thought so.” Dr. Martin returned his focus to his computer, typing something new. “Because it’s still morning, we can probably get you out of here by around lunch, or after. Do you have someone who can pick you up?”

“I believe my friend Joan would be willing to do so.” Logan said thoughtfully, still thumbing his jeans. It wasn’t his body. He couldn’t explain why it felt like his body so much, why more and more this world felt preferable to what he had been used to. He wondered if Thomas’s parents had attempted to contact him in the meanwhile.

“You okay there, Thomas? You’re welcome to stay another day if you’re still having suicidal thoughts.” Dr. Martin paused, fingers hovering over his keyboard, looking at Logan quizzically.

“I am quite alright. I’m simply tired. I believe I am overdue for a shower.” Logan lied, standing up. “I will contact Joan after a quick rinse, if that is alright, and if the paperwork will be ready.”

“Yep, sounds good.” Dr. Martin nodded, indicating understanding. “Leaving can be overwhelming in itself. There’s routine here, and leaving can feel like being put back into whatever put you here. You sound like you’ll be safe when you  get home, though, and you seem very sure. I believe you’re ready to leave if you say you are.”

“I believe I’m ready to leave.” Logan nodded. “Yes, I believe so.”

“Great! Enjoy that shower.” Dr. Martin smiled and turned back to his computer. “Leave the door open for the next person, would you?”

* * *

  
  


In the water, Logan felt at home. It was warm, but not too hot, and the water pressure was pleasant without being too forceful. The curtain had a net near the top and didn’t extend to the floor; Logan figured out after being checked on once during a shower that this was to ensure a patient hadn’t somehow found a way to do themselves harm using the shower curtain. 

He ran his hands through the water, feeling the warmth on his skin for the second time that morning, feeling it run through his hair - no, Thomas’s hair.

Thomas’s body. 

Logan looked down, examining himself. Certainly he was identical to Thomas in body, but there was something very different between his temporary body and this one; this body was heavy, weighted, pulling down  towards the center of the drain. He felt his toes go over the edge of the drain, the metal scratching slightly at the bottom of his heel, and reached up, drifting between the water droplets. It felt solid, somehow more solid than his usual form, in a way he couldn’t quite articulate. He’d given up trying to articulate it a few days ago, but it still itched at him to find the right words. 

“Like dreaming.” He muttered, suddenly, the word clear as day. Dreaming, something he had never experienced. Here was dreaming.

Here felt strange, surreal. Here, for a moment, he felt like his old self, like his old body was here, like he wasn’t really in Thomas’s skin at all.

He closed his eyes and felt it wash over him, over his nose and mouth and down his chest, and let himself stay there a moment, floating in a space that neither time nor gravity could quite touch, where he was a piece of the conscious and the subconscious, where words had no meaning until assigned and facts were consequential, where he was, a moment, not Thomas, but Logic, unbound by the constraints of a body and physical form.

* * *

  
  


Logan walked out his door and back out to the day room. He found that Mike and Corey were sitting in a corner, and Corey had her book out once again. He sat down, quietly, on the floor next to her, leaning his head on the chair, listening to her soothing voice wash out the sounds of other patients and the television.

“When I was a girl, my life was music that was always getting louder. Everything moved me. A dog following a stranger. That made me feel so much. A calendar that showed the wrong month. I could have cried over it. I did. Where the smoke from a chimney ended. How an overturned bottle rested at the edge of a table. I spent my life learning to feel less. Every day I felt less. Is that growing old? Or is it something worse? You cannot protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness.”

Logan looked up as Corey paused, biting her lip, and took a breath before continuing. This, this right here; these moments of reality were things he would miss.

* * *

  
  


“So, Thomas, wanna play cards after lunch between that and group?” Corey asked, holding her book under her lunch tray as she sat next to him. 

Logan looked at her, impressed that she hadn’t spilled the strangely liquid lasagna. “It depends on if I am still here. Dr. Martin believes I am ready to go home. I have contacted my ride and told them that I should be leaving this afternoon.”

Corey stopped chewing her lasagna a moment too long and swallowed, looking suddenly pale. She paused. “I never really cared for lasagna.” 

“Are you alright?” Logan asked, stirring his own lunch, looking at her. “Perhaps this news has upset you. We have spent some time together here, after all.”

“I’m alright. I’m just not feeling well. New meds.” Corey stood, taking her tray, and sighed. “I’m alright. I just don't’ feel well.”

Logan watched as Corey walked away across the cafeteria, recognizing the stiffness of her walk from a couple of days prior, and sighed, scooting away from his own tray and picking it up to walk over to her new table. “Excuse me a moment.” 

He walked over and put his tray next to her, sitting down, and looked at her with an interested expression. “Tell me why you did that.”

“I told you. Not feeling great.” Corey looked up a moment from her book, then back to its pages, but Logan could see from her eyes she wasn’t truly reading. 

“I don’t believe you.” Logan sliced off a section of his lasagna and chewed it, then frowned. “I can see why you do not care for lasagna.”

“Thomas, am I going to talk to you again? Ever?” Corey asked point blank, holding her place in the book with her hand. “I don’t normally want to see people when I get out of here. But I’m going to miss you a lot.”

“I can supply you with a number to contact my cellular device.” Logan mused. He wondered a moment how he was going to explain this to Thomas. “I did not realize we had become close enough for such familiarities, but I can also see that this means a lot to you.”

“Yeah.” Corey nodded, looking suddenly distant. “It does.”

“Corey, how long have you been here?” Logan asked, setting his fork down gently.

“Three weeks.” Corey admitted quietly. “This is my seventh time in a place like this. I’ve been in and out since I was twelve.”

“My. That’s… that’s got to be quite overwhelming.” Logan said thoughtfully, no longer paying his food any mind. “How old are you now?”

“Twenty-four.” Corey said a bit sadly. 

“Why do you keep coming back?” 

Corey swallowed, blinked, stared out into something only she could see. “Because I keep wanting to kill myself. I know people around me love me a lot. Every time I say that I’m suicidal, people take me very seriously because I’ve tried before. I don’t even know if I always mean it, though. I don’t so much want to die as I want the feelings to stop. Dying … dying is terrifying. But this feeling stopping…” She trailed off, eyes glazed over.

“What is your diagnosis?” Logan asked, remembering his own paper -  _ Major Depressive Episode _ , it had said in scrawling writing on Dr. Martin’s desk.

“Lots of things. Depends on what hospital I’m at. At home, bipolar disorder type one. Here… major depression.” Corey chewed her lip thoughtfully a moment, then blinked again, but a tear betrayed her. She looked away. “I wanna go home.”

“I know.” Logan nodded. He considered - what would Patton do? Or Thomas? - and found himself at a loss. “You know, you don’t seem depressed to me.”

“You didn’t see me when I got here.” Corey said bluntly. “I had to get five stitches. I wasn’t even trying to kill myself. I just didn’t want to feel the way I did.”

“Why would you do something then to make yourself feel worse?” Logan racked his brain, remembering Virgil, remembering the blood on his jeans and hoodie, the way his heart had felt like it was going to stop when he saw him lying there. 

“Maybe as a distraction. Maybe to make the things in my head quiet down. They quiet down if I do something to myself. For a while.” Corey ran her fingers over her scarring, over the roadmap of hatch marks. “It never helps forever. But it does for a bit. And sometimes that’s enough.”

“I had never considered that self harm might help something feel better.” Logan admitted. 

“What did you think it did?” Corey turned to him, brow furrowed. 

“I don’t know. I never bothered to ask.” Logan shrugged. “I don’t like to admit when I don’t know things.” 

“Yeah.” Corey nodded. “I could see that about you. You can be kind of arrogant at times.”

“Me- arrogant? It isn’t my fault that Mike doesn't’ want to play Monopoly by the rules.” Logan watched as Corey snickered, feeling slight relief at the sight of her smiling again. “You really believe you’d miss me?”

“Yeah. Of course.” Corey nodded. “I’d miss you like hell.”

“Hmm.” Logan nodded, considering this, coming to a realization of his own, something he would not have thought possible were he in his natural state. “I believe I would also miss you.” 

“Guys! Line up to head back! Group C!”

“That’s us.” Corey stood, stretching, still holding her book. Logan noted how it was taped together in many places, some pages on the verge of falling out, and wondered at the sentimentality. 

“How many times have you read that?” He asked, picking up his tray and standing as well.

“I have no idea.” Corey admitted, looking at it. “But it’s my only book here, so… a lot.” 

* * *

  
  


Logan stood by the door in the lobby, looking out, waiting for Joan’s car to arrive. In his hand he held a small piece of paper with a phone number, signed with a C. 

“Call me when you get home. Or the next day. Call here. I’ll add you to my list.” Corey had told him when he’d left her with Thomas’s phone number.

“This friendship thing feels odd.” He muttered, wondering at the pleasant feeling in his stomach.

He looked up to see that Joan’s car had arrived. Finally, he could go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This feels odd to say, but for those who haven't figured it out, Corey is kind of based off of myself in many ways - her love of reading, her scars, her sensitivity to people asking about her scars, the stiffness she gets when she's trying not to cry, her general personality when she's trying to be friendly; all things that are very much based on myself.
> 
> I'm honored by the reception she's received and hope to have the opportunity to include her in a fic in the future.


	17. Upward Over the Mountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay. This is it. My entire reason for writing this fic is the conversation that happens here. I hope you guys enjoy it. It only took about 30,000 words to get to. 
> 
> You can listen to Upward Over the Mountain by Iron and Wine here ---> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Kh09MuIfIU 
> 
> There are some lyrics from it I really just find fitting for the mood... like... 
> 
> "So may the sunrise bring hope where it once was forgotten  
> Sons are like birds flying upwards over the mountain"
> 
> And just the overall feeling of the song feels very fitting. It's melancholy, quiet, still serious. I love it.
> 
> Warnings: death mention, suffocation mention, suicide attempt mention, basically stuff that was already in this fic from COTDW

Thomas watched as Joan’s last message faded away.  _ Gotta go - going to get Logan!  _ He laughed with delight, something joyful he had forgotten about coming alive inside him. The grass felt warmer, the sun brighter. He felt Patton hug him again and finally turned towards Patton, hugging him back - and then froze at what he saw behind them.

Walking towards the group was a very familiar Roman, and something else that Thomas felt his eyes widen. A great dragon was walking towards them, scales dull in the mind palace sun, eyes tired and weary. It was a magnificent beast, one that had seen harsh battles, shown by scarring on its chest and arms. Thomas couldn’t believe his eyes, not quite. He pulled away from Patton and looked to see Virgil was already standing up, between the two, fists clenched tight.

“What - Roman, what’s going on?” He asked as he stood, helping Patton up as he did so. “I’m sorry I blew up on you, but this is insane.” Thomas muttered, looking at Virgil, whose nostrils were flared in fury. “I mean, this is nuts - is that who I think it is?”

“I am sorry to you, my dear Thomas. And everyone here. It was a mistake to hide the mirror.” Roman said quietly. “And yes, it is who you think it is.”

“Apology accepted.” Virgil said quietly, still staring at the dragon witch, still clenching his fists tightly.

“Yeah, that’s fine - Roman, who is she?” Thomas asked again, looking up at the dragon, at the scales that looked as if they had been desaturated. He couldn’t explain why he wanted the extra clarification. Roman couldn’t have been stupid enough to bring the dragon witch to them, he thought. 

“This… is…well, this is-” Roman stammered, gesturing behind him. “This is, well, you know-”

“That’s the dragon witch.” Patton cut in. “Roman, what the freaking heck?”

“Well-” Roman was cut off by Virgil walking around him, shoving him out of the way, walking right up to the dragon witch, the sky above them darkening. 

“Enough bullshit. What do you want?” He asked, voice low again. “I got rid of you before. I can do it again.”

“Yes… I’m aware of you sending me to the subconscious. I doubt you could do it again right now.” The dragon witch’s voice sounded strange to Thomas, like something low and dark. It reminded him of a disney villain, but looking at Virgil staring at her, the way Virgil stood between them and the group, he knew it was no mild threat. He swallowed, looking at the way the sky was nearly growing black, blotting out the sun with storm clouds, patches of lightning lighting up the sky. 

Virgil held out his hand, but stopped, looking confused for a moment. He blinked, held out his hand again, put it down at his side, and continued to repeat the motion, growing increasingly frustrated.

The dragon witch sighed. “I am no threat to you. I want to help.” 

“You? Help?” Thomas was surprised that the words were coming not from Virgil, but from Patton. “You - you tried to kill us! You killed me!”

“I would never truly try to kill you. I always gave you an out. It isn’t my fault you were stupid enough to put yourself into Roman’s earth and suffocate.” The dragon witch scoffed, shaking her head.

“You tried to - you made me try to kill myself.” Virgil turned towards Roman, throwing out his hands. “What were you thinking, bringing her anywhere near us?”

“Well - I-” Roman backed away, stammering.

“Yeah, Roman - this isn’t good! We all know it!” Patton turned on Roman as well, and soon Thomas found that the three were bickering and arguing amongst themselves, occasionally shouting as tensions ran high. He tried a couple of times to yell over them, but was unsuccessful, the argument growing louder. He looked behind them to see that the dragon witch wasn’t paying them any mind; instead, she was looking right at him, head tilted. The question was obvious:  _ so what are you going to do now? _

“Hold on!” Thomas yelled as thunder clapped, walking into the group, who, startled, each looked at him in turn. “Hold on.” He repeated, more quietly. “Let’s not fight about this. I have an idea.”

“What’s your idea, kiddo?” Patton asked, glancing warily over at the dragon witch.

“I’m going to talk to her.” Thomas swallowed. “Alone.”

“What? Thomas, you can’t-” Virgil was silenced by Thomas holding up his hand and simply looking at him. He sighed seeing the way Virgil’s eyes had widened, not with anger, but with fear. 

“Oh Verge.” Thomas muttered. “It’ll be alright. This is my head. I don’t think things can get any worse.” 

“But - no!” Virgil shook his head and pulled his sleeves around his hands. “Thomas, you can’t just run off with the biggest antagonist in your whole head, you know how stupid that is?”

“Maybe.” Thomas shrugged. “Maybe I have some things I need answers to.” 

“Thomas, be careful.” Roman said quietly, looking uncomfortable. “I don’t think this is the best plan, but I trust you. Please be careful.” 

“Yeah… we’ll be close by.” Patton said quietly, looking subdued. “But please be safe.” 

“Yeah.” Thomas nodded. He turned to the dragon witch and watched as she straightened up, stretching a bit. “What do you say, dragon witch? A private conversation?”

“I suppose that’s fair. This is your mind. You are, ultimately, what creates us. You’re the boss.” The dragon witch knelt down and gestured towards her back, near the top of her wings. “Get on.”

“Don’t-” Virgil put out his hand, only to have it pulled back by Roman. 

“Guys.” Thomas turned back to them, flashing a cheesy grin. “It’s my head. What could she possibly do to me that hasn’t already happened?”

Thomas walked forward and climbed up before the question could be answered, with some difficulty, and found himself on the creature’s back. He noticed that her scales were creaking, crumbling and cracking. He looked back at the sides and before he had a chance to even say he’d be safe, the dragon witch took off, flying into Roman’s sky. 

The wind rushed through his ears and chilled him in a way he hadn’t expected. Suddenly the dreamlike world felt real again, for a moment. Clouds rushed by. Thomas put his hand out and felt moisture, then found himself putting his hand down for fear of falling off. The dragon witch’s wings moved under him, bumping against his inner thighs and knees. For the first time, Thomas got to look at the kingdom from high above the ground. He saw mountains and trees and distantly, the field of dogs - ponds and lakes and ruins of buildings, here and there. 

“Wow.” Thomas muttered, looking at all the details, blurred at the distance and speed they flew at. 

Then they were flying over a mountain Thomas hadn’t previously seen, and then into a lush valley. 

At the base of the valley, the dragon witch lowered herself, and Thomas climbed off, surveying his surroundings. There was a small stream, and near it a few large stones. Thomas climbed up one as the dragon witch walked around him, and soon the two were sitting together, facing the stream. It felt strange and awkward.

“So.” The dragon witch said quietly.

“So.” Thomas echoed.

“You didn’t think this through, did you?” The dragon witch said, amused. 

Thomas found himself, to his surprise, giggling. “No. I didn’t.”

His giggles soon died down, replaced by the sound of the babbling brook, the breeze and the rustle of leaves. He ran his hands over the stone, wondering at its smooth texture, wondering why it wasn’t more grainy, more... real.

“It’s strange.” He muttered. 

“What is?” The dragon witch asked, glancing over at him.

“Well… aren’t you evil?” Thomas asked, looking back over at her. “I feel like I should be angry with you, but more than that I want to know what you are.”

“I’m a bit evil. But not entirely.” The dragon witch replied quietly.

The two looked out into the water, into the valley, quiet a moment more.

“I don’t get it though. Am I a bad person?” Thomas asked, looking over at her again.

“You asked to speak to me alone to ask that?” The dragon witch replied, then Thomas heard a strange, low sound that might have been laughing. “You’re a good person, Thomas. Everyone has a part of themselves that isn’t good. Even good people.”

“Is that what you are?” Thomas asked, looking up at her curiously. “The bad part of me?”

She nodded. “Something like that.”

“It can’t be that simple.” Thomas shook his head, ran his fingers through his hair. “I mean… you moved me in here. You moved Logan out there. You’re not just a part of me I don’t like.”

“I am, though. You don’t like admitting you can be selfish. You don’t like admitting you can be angry, certainly not to your family, or your fans. You don’t like that you got angry with Roman - or as angry as you did. You don’t like admitting how much this place has influenced your emotions since you’ve been here.”

Thomas pushed Logan’s glasses up his nose, something he’d nearly forgotten he was wearing, and nodded. He swallowed. He thought about the fight with Roman, the panic attack before. “They’re affecting me here. That’s what you’re saying.”

“Yes. I am a manifestation of your anger, among other things. You’re nearer to me. Virgil was also angry. These two things together made you react differently than you might have normally.” The dragon witch laid down, resting her snout on her arms. “To be fair, you’re effecting this place too. That’s why I need to get you back out into the real world.” 

“You don’t really care about us, do you?” Thomas said bluntly, running his fingers over Logan’s jeans.

“Yes and no.” The dragon witch blinked heavily, letting out a small puff of smoke. “I want you to stay alive so that I stay alive. I told you, Thomas. I am not a pleasant part of you.”

“But you are here.” Thomas muttered, looking at her large body, wondering at her honesty. “You’re not going to hurt me, then, I don’t think.”

“Did you think I would?” The dragon witch looked up at him, tilting her head. 

“Well, I wasn’t entirely sure you wouldn’t.” Thomas admitted. “I mean… Patton died. Virgil almost died. Roman got eaten. You must have a soft spot for Logan because he just got a night- we got a nightmare.” 

“No, Logan’s was something he was truly afraid of. I didn’t orchestrate their fears completely. A lot of that was up to them.” The dragon witch explained. “I set the seeds. They had to water them. Nightmares don’t grow on their own.”

“Another thing - why are you in Roman’s part of the mind palace? Are you part of him?” Thomas asked, looking at her curiously. 

“I like it here. He didn’t make me, if that’s what you’re wondering. You did.” The dragon witch explained in soft, cool voice. “You made all of us. You made everything here. Roman can make things - but only because you expect it of him. He did not make me. Here is just… peaceful.”

“Huh.” Thomas looked out, into the water again, noticing how it was beginning to look less real to him, just as everything else did. “What did you mean, I’m having an effect here?”

“Well, you know it isn’t real. The more time you spend here, the more obvious it gets.” The dragon witch huffed. “Thought you would’ve been smart enough to figure that out yourself.” 

Thomas frowned, feeling uncomfortable suddenly. “I’m the reason things are more like paper? Like… I’m…”

“Not intentionally, you aren’t.” The dragon witch said blankly. “Logan, were he here, would say it is an interesting argument to argue whether intention or outcome is more important. I am less interested in such things.” 

“So I do have one big question.” Thomas asked, pulling his knee up the stone. “Why?”

“Why what, specifically?” The dragon witch asked, looking out into the valley again.

“Why did you do… any of it? Before? Now?” Thomas asked, raising an eyebrow. 

The dragon witch sighed. Her wings stretched out a moment, the fluttered back down. There was a moment of calm as Thomas waited for her to respond. 

“I’d done smaller things before. Provoked Virgil, mostly. The first time was like really stretching my wings. You don’t like admitting that I’m here, Thomas, in the way that I am. I think I wanted to make you admit that. And when I was defeated… I was angry. So angry that I did something stupid, something I’m not sure I can reverse.” 

Thomas looked at the water and the leaves, letting the words sink in. For a moment, the world seemed quieter; it weighed on him heavily, pulling through his stomach. “You don’t know if you can put me back?”

“I’m not completely sure.” The dragon witch stood again, this time up completely. “We should get back. Perhaps we can find out if I’m powerful enough to fix this.”

“Yeah.” Thomas walked over, climbing on the dragon witch’s back, back to where he had been before. He watched the valley sink below him, looking more and more like a drawing, his own hands looking more and more like something far away. He closed his eyes and held on with his legs, not wanting to let doubt set in. “Hopefully.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh sooooooo that happened. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read up to this point. The fact that I've had so many readers for two stories, but very long stories, right in a row, means so much to me. I'm very thankful for that. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!


	18. Through the Looking Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things. They FINALLY happen.
> 
> This is a very short chapter.
> 
> I believe there will be at least one more. 
> 
> No warnings for this chapter.

The car ride had died down from pleasantries and shows of affection to the usual humdrum of driving, the highway and radio buzzing in Logan’s ear as he looked out the window, missing the feeling of glasses on his nose. He stretched and looked over at Joan, who was driving in a relaxed sort of way. He considered Joan’s apologies and had accepted them. Joan had gone back to changing the radio station, and that was that.

He stared out the window at the traffic, which he hadn’t been able to really see from the back of the ambulance. He considered the unanswered texts from friends and family that Thomas had on his phone, things he had figured were better left unanswered by him. He remembered how Corey had said he handled emotions differently. The thought of this had made answering texts not addressed to him feel wrong. 

“We’re almost there, aren’t we?” Logan asked, turning to Joan as they slowed down at a stop light.

“Yep.” Joan nodded. “Just about.”

“Hmm.” Logan allowed himself a small smile at the thought of being only logic again, less weighted, less physical, less… human. He watched a bird fly by as the car began to move again and almost laughed. Almost.

* * *

  
  


“So, what do we do now?” 

Patton looked over at Thomas with apprehension. Roman was holding the mirror now, the dragon witch close by, looking at them all.

“We wait.” Virgil muttered, still white knuckled looking at the dragon witch.

In the reflection of the bathroom was a backwards sign which read  _ ‘just hold on a little longer’ _ . 

Thomas nodded, staring at it, not looking at the fading of the grass or the dulling of the sky. Behind him, there was a small rumbling sound. 

* * *

  
  


“Okay.” Joan opened the door and Logan walked in, right around them, walking right up the stairs. “You’re welcome, I guess.” 

“Yes, thank you.” Logan nodded behind him and continued up the stairs, going to the bathroom as quickly as he could. 

* * *

  
  


“How long do we have to wait?” Patton asked. He was pacing, wringing his hands. “You can fix this, right?”

“I hope so.” The dragon witch said quietly.

“Hope?” Virgil snapped up, looking at the dragon witch with utter horror. “Thomas-”

“Wait!”

Roman, Patton, Virgil, and the dragon witch all looked at the mirror, to which Thomas was pointing.

* * *

  
  


“Wait, how is this possible?” Logan muttered, looking at Thomas in the mirror. He wondered where the other sides were; they seemed oddly absent. He held out his hand, moving it towards the mirror. 

Joan watched, apprehensive, wondering what Logan was seeing, catching their breath still from the climb up the stairs. 

* * *

 

Thomas held out his hand, the mirror rippling, swaying. He felt something hit him in the back and suddenly found himself tumbling, falling into nothingness. 

There was a woosh of air, a strange rush. Thomas’s stomach fell, his conscious faded in and out. He blinked, eyes open, seeing two large brown eyes over him. 

“Thomas?” Joan asked, looking at him worriedly.

Thomas leaned forward and brought Joan down to him, enveloping them in the tightest hug he’d ever given anyone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FINALLY got to this point wow! It felt like an appropriate stopping point but also... wow the emotions! Ahhh! Okay I'm done. Please let me know if I missed any pronouns, I had to correct myself a few times.


	19. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it! The fic is over!   
> Holy crap I wrote a two part story that's literally over 70,000 words and one more part (a sort of in between) is still on its way! How even. HOW.  
> No warnings. Enjoy!

Corey looked down at her phone and tilted her head, confused at the unfamiliar number. She hesitated, thinking, considering, and eventually put her thumb on the green button, holding the phone up to her ear cautiously.

“Hello?” 

“Yes, hello, is this Corey?”

“Yes?” Corey bit her cheek. “Who is this?”

“It’s Lo-It’s Thomas. I was hoping that we could arrange a meeting.” 

Corey smiled, relief flooding her. “I’d be delighted! When and where?”

“If it isn’t too far for you, I was hoping that we could arrange to meet at my residence. There is something that I need a private location to disclose to you.”

“Uh… yeah.” Corey stood up from her bed, frowning now. “Where do you live?”

* * *

 

An hour or so and several wrong turns later, Corey found herself pulling into a driveway. She looked up at the white house and put the car into park, pulling her cell phone from its place in the cup holder and turning of the navigation. She swallowed and examined her makeup in her rearview mirror a moment, wondering as she always did if the eyeliner was too much. It always seemed like too much.

She stood up from the car and shut the squeaking door, cringing at the sound before walking up to the door and pressing the doorbell, pocketing her phone in her hoodie. 

A moment later she heard a few voices and the shuffle of feet before the door opened a crack, then further, Thomas standing before her wearing glasses and a blue tie.

“Hey!” Corey said happily, gripping her pocket tightly. “May I come in?”

“Before you do, there’s something I need to inform you of.” Corey watched as Thomas pushed his glasses up his nose and tilted her head. Had he worn glasses in the hospital? Perhaps, like her, he had worn contacts. “I am not a person.”

“I’m - I’m sorry?” 

Thomas turned behind him, said something she couldn’t understand, and turned back to her. “I apologize. This is a bit hard to explain. I will start with the basics. My name is not Thomas. It is Logan. I am logic.”

“Okay…” Corey nodded, slowly, eyes widening. “I’m not sure what.. The doctors all called you Thomas? Are you his twin?”

Corey watched as Logan chuckled at this. “No. That would be much simpler. Hold on a moment, would you?” And then he shut the door - right in her face. 

Corey jumped, now more confused than ever. She waited a moment, staring at the door, feeling very strange, but there were only the sounds of speaking the the shuffle of voices. Then there was quiet, and Corey found herself looking around, feeling awkward. “Okay.. I guess I'll go?”

She turned, walking away, still feeling very confused - Thomas certainly hadn’t seemed like he had dissociative identity disorder - when she suddenly heard the door open again. Turning, she found Thomas there, now without glasses, wearing what looked like a costume for a play about a Disney prince. 

“I apologize for that. Logan can be a bit abrasive. When he informed us he had befriended a young woman, we were very surprised that anyone could put up with him.” 

“Wha… what’s…. I’m confused, I’m sorry.” Corey shook her head and gestured to her car, keys in hand. “I think I’m gonna go.”

“Wait - I apologize. I am Roman, and I am-”

Suddenly Roman was pulled away from the door and another face, still Thomas’s but now with dark eyeshadow under the eyes, was visible a moment, then the door was simply open, but no one was there. Several voices could be heard. Corey couldn’t tell if it was Thomas talking to himself, or just him making voices. Cautiously, she crept forward, keys between her fingers in a fist. She walked into the doorway and turned towards a living room - and immediately dropped her keys. 

Standing there were four Thomas’s, all in different outfits. There was the one who looked like costume royalty, Roman. There was the one who had called himself Logan, wearing a blue tie. There was the one who had had dark eyeshadow under his eyes and one wearing a blue polo and a sweatshirt over his shoulders, whose names she didn’t know. 

A moment later, a toilet was heard flushing, and Corey looked up to see a fifth figure, also identical, walking down the stairs. He stopped halfway down, tilting his head in confusion, and Corey found that no words were making their way to her mouth. 

“I’m sorry, what are you doing in my house?” He asked as he came down the stairs.

“Are-which one of you is Thomas?” Corey asked, bending down to pick up her keys, eyes still wide with shock. “Are you a quintuplet? That’s crazy. This is - wait, are you Thomas?”

“Yes - but again-”

“I invited her over using your cellular device.” Logan stepped forward, a cell phone in his hand. “I wanted to, as Patton might call it, hang out with her. I met her during my stay in the hospital.”

“This is Corey?” 

Corey watched as the figure at the top of the stairs, whose name she realized she still didn’t know, made his way down the stairs. “Logan, you can’t just invite people over without telling me.”

“Uh - are you roommates?” Corey asked, still looking between them. 

“Sort of.” The man standing in front of her crossed his arms and looked at his doppelgangers with a raised eyebrow. “Uh… well. I guess I should introduce myself. I’m Thomas.”

Corey looked at the hand he was holding out to her and took it, shaking it slowly, still looking at all the identical figures in the room. She let go and pointed at them, at Logan, who was still standing with the other figures. “He said he was... logic?”

“Yes. I am.” Logan walked up to Corey, hands on his waist, looking a bit embarrassed. “ That is Anxiety, or Virgil, Morality, or Patton, and Creativity, or Roman. We are parts of Thomas’s personality. I have a lot to explain. Won’t you sit down?”

**Author's Note:**

> If you havent' read The Curse of the Dragon Witch, please read that first. Also comments give me life. Find me on tumblr @thelogicalloganipus.


End file.
